When the train leaves the station,
I’m going back to a foreign nation.
It’s not with tears or sorrow
because I think of tomorrow.
“I have to look ahead!
Or I might as well be dead.”
Did you ever call two worlds your own?
You would know in between you’re very alone.
It took years of getting used to…
Fighting to not feel blue.
The train is moving again.
Most buildings haven’t changed since then.
They’re old and falling apart
and people know nothing about art.
To me this land has a beauty.
And there is no feeling of duty.
Here I don’t have to think.
This train is the only link.
And when I’m on the plane…
Nobody will no my name.
An old poem about years of being torn between my past in a tiny east german village and life in London... Commentaire d´auteur
Toutes les droites appartiennent à son auteur Il a été publié sur e-Stories.org par la demande de Gisa Wierzchowski.
Publié sur e-Stories.org sur 21.11.2004.
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