Lighten up, songbirds. Give me a break.
No need to carry on this way,
even if it is morning. I need more sleep.
Where were you keeping yourselves when I was thirty?
When the house stayed dark and quiet all day,
as if somebody had died?
And this same somebody, or somebody else,
cooked a huge, morose meal for the survivors.
A meal that lasted ten years.
Go on, sweethearts. Come back in an hour,
my friends. Then I'll be wide awake.
You'll see. This time I can promise.
Gedicht: Raymond Carver, 'A poem not against songbirds'
Foto: Rosa, http://www.flickr.com/photos/dadiva/
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