I

don’t regret,

that there is also mud collected in my soul-

but I do think of you.

With sunny claws

one morning will kill your dream

that my soul is immaculate

as your thought would like

as your heart would believe.

Will you cry heavy tears then, or will you just forgive?

Will you cry heavy tears, or will you smile

in the light of that morning

when I will tell you without shadow of remorse:

“But don’t you know that only on lakes with muddy depths, the water lilies grow?”