Black letters as grim leaves
of long withered pale trees
fill the graves of true lovers.
Black, but sweet and softly padded rest
is the last reward of toil and endurance.
Now cast your eyes on their blank covers.
The gem of the soul,
the heart of body pumping…
– I miss the warm hug,
the soothing words
and your curling smile…
– What is to be whole?
To only exist, to be,
when I am with you?
Please, care and never let go!
For I long to be in the grave
just to be with you my crow…