If we could ever understand what life is for
And what is likely a strange manoeuvre,
If we could ever realise it way before,
Would it be harder to collect the oeuvre
Than talk to you and see that you would rather
Die than acknowledge and restore my pain?
To calculate the loss and gain of simple thoughts
To talk about walking in the rain, cats and dogs rain
Without thinking that I ought
To ever think of you again.
Your whisper will not touch me for long time,
I’ll die and you will always find the wrong time
To create another remnant of my strained face
In a strange person. If you draw an ace
I’ll draw six or joker, it depends –
In endless poker, there is no space
For losers, when it somehow ends.