Monday, July 13, 2009

The Sunflower

Still and always you are,
Turning round without peace.
You’ve fixed the brand of sun,
In your lively yellow color.
That heat gives you the force,
And for you nothing other counts.
Your hunger does not fade.
Your thirst does not wane.
When then the evening is falling,
Your life is suspended,
Every thing becomes black,
And next morning all starts again.
But that sense can never have,
Your blind, barren way to behave.
Watching and not seeing,
And loving without enjoying.

(anonymous)

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