Written At The Age Of Fifteen

Life holds for me

No eager cry or joy;

It’s just a dull ache

Throbbing in my breast..

Just a broken toy.

The sky stays blue,

The moon a yellow God

Who shares his joy abroad.

Yet life holds for me

No eager fascination.

The sparrow ends its song,

The geese their flight.

My heart bleeds on

And soon

My hair turns white.

 Yu/stan/kema