AS IF DRAWING Comments

What are you to me, what am I to you, without pointing
You penetrate like a stranger
From the visible things in you
I derived an invisible hope
Seems like I carried your air to my room
Was I wrong to think indeed
The vine grows from a single seed

The ones who die in a fight within themselves
All of a sudden or by and by
Should they pile up or stand like remnants
The world stinks with them
Without war, without filth, without fight, without hunger
A fairy-tale, you: as if drawing an infinite sky
If only for every one
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