Iris Mista

(Bolsward)

In Tsjuttend Gebear


It is net allinnich it waar
as in tsjuttend gebear
ik bin al hiel werom
wêr't ik al wrakseljend weikom

Rein dripkjend út 'e loft
sûnder ophâlden, sûnder skoft
Op 'e nij yn in deadlike striid
Nea soe ik wer troch sa'n tiid

Ea woe ik ta myn ein
sa leech, fol pine, sa folslein
Ik hie myn hope dochs wer fûn
mei striid de dea ferslûn

Mar no, it jeit my troch de lea
Toe stjer, ferdwyn yn de dea
Jou dy no mar flechtich del
In ein oan dizze goddeleaze hel

Wat is it dat hâldt my tsjin
it binne dizzen dy't ik kin
dy't te lijen hawwe oan myn dea
Noch mear pine, noch mear sear

Mar hoe lang noch kin ik it wjerstean
Troch hoefolle pine kin ik noch gean
It kaam slûpend tichteby
ferljochtsjend, lang om let.. frij

May 21,2013

Submitted: Monday, April 07, 2014
Edited: Monday, April 07, 2014

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Cpomplex PTSD

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