Not from you I want run –
From myself, my shadow,
My home, my belongings,
My duties, my love,
What is here to be mine?
As a fairy, I have no roots
in this forgotten ground
Why is this place so cold,
Souls are so huge, giants;
They do not see the ant,
The little bird, the little bee
In front of their shoes –
Ready to smash you;
The dust is the air they breath;
Their food are black coals
Endless industries, machines;
Just here I need the whisper
Of my flowers and crystals,
Bated in my blue room
I`m child of sorrow and rain.
n.nour *
- 9 -
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