Tribal village


I carry the reverie of a German  soul

torn musicality made of mist and forest

where all roads  and dreams end ,

young poet madly in love  ,painful melody

you want to live  to die ...poor Werther !

Sometimes here, child of italy 

full of mercurial fantasy ! 

the girls of Milan have a scent of scala,

a glass of tuscany  dreams ,comedia del'arte ,

on a Campania beach I take  few steps with Fellini ...

Of the French  elegant ''Art de vivre '' 

I only  have, words, the clumsy Belgitude  

looking the heights of Notre Dame towers ,

 but Victor Hugo is an old beard ,

Tintin and the Goof are my  friends !

Boatman,sailing  up  Volga melody  ,

   vodka my comrade  !

To the west of the great wall ,

I'll find  my little tribal village ,

its well trimmed hedges  and flowery paths...

At sunrise my pastoral symphony  !


  • Author: lorenz (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: February 12th, 2024 07:43
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 6
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  • Ellen Marsell

    Quite a subtle poem! Bravo!

    • Lorenz

      "Champagne ! ''

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