Gedichten

The Retreat by Charles Bukowski

"this time has finished me.
I feel like the German troops
whipped by snow and the communists
walking bent
with newspapers stuffed into
worn boots"...

The Minstrel?s Grave
by Frances Anne Kemble

"Oh let it be where the waters are meeting,
In one crystal sheet, like the summer's sky bright!
Oh let it be where the sun, when retreating,
May throw the last glance of his vanishing light"...