A film poem dedicated to "Minefield"
Unexpectedly, the shiny sand from the shiny beach, the
shiny crystals pounced on -
you, not standing, even watching the sea
, Everything, without any beard,
is far beyond Berlin, the sun and the flames
stand on the paper of the cross, like the quivering Star of David
The cross is buried in the sand, and the rustling
is the steam of the boiling sea swept across the pale. The reed grass and the two dirty, ugly and old fragments of palms and palms
on the wreckage , dream phantoms, pale reeds, boundless pain Picking up a certain you, like collecting stamps, this fragment comes from you who rebuilt Germany, a lonely prisoner of war, a ghost in a foreign land Fragments of mourning corpses scattered on mine-ridden Danish coast
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