Tribut Poem by Pierre Rausch

Nor the Master was sorry
Let them go
But Master
You must claim your own
Bade them farewell
Then for the first time
In his trousers pocket
Winds are cold
Then, the next month
Leaves were falling cold
A sudden flurry of smoke
A third lower floor
I thought there is a top and a bottom -
Beneath the construction
Beneath the construction I sometimes need
Nor the Master was sorry
I thought he didn't – there lies late light -
Merit
The dark lantern illuminated from below
Tool cadet – he did not wake up
Merit
The Master was sorry – or thought he did - way beneath -
This tragic boulevards – beneath way