My hair is shorn
In mourning-
Cut to a boyish crew
The way you like it-
As penance burns
For the passion served-
This crusader
Is at the stake-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
with ash in your mouth, - youre asking to burn again.. goldy well i cleared a place on that wooden floor where i could lie; and then i found a plane, wrote these words into the sky ~