Zwarta Geld. Poem by Chris Lane

Zwarta Geld.



Dear Rudi.

Oh! such a pity, back when you were poor,
Your air cooled chariot of fire,
exchanged hot air kept you warmer.

Keeping fish cool
became your obsession:
Building ice factories in ice haven.

Ice became money,
Ice cold geld,
Money you loved even more than yourself.

What about Aneka?
Your only dear daughter,
remember! you disown her,
Because she found love
In a loving woman's heart.

Zwarta Geld in Switzerland
Frozen in account
Never to be spent.

Rudi
What good is your Geld
Now that your life is spent!

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