The way home

< Marina Jung
Hamburg




Street driving colored lights river,
Drops gently rustling at the car window.
In transplant solyus familiar with the crowd.
Like a rebirth - a way home ...
You can Kemar the singing phone.

Slowly eroding band of dawn,
Concrete jungle of a meeting of the lights prescribed.
Quiet headphones rushes into his hell Chris Rea,
And lighting the lights on the streets,
City rain washes recent noisy evening.

Day, extinguished in a hurry to finish the line.
Noise anthill quieter, darker gave ...
Each weary sails to his little world:
Who to children who to a computer who for a beer.
Only smoke in the suburbs are not tired.

The city, which I stubbornly every day
Intersect along the long diagonal ...
I'm with him on you, and his tongue in my sign,
We almost got along with him, and almost alone,
He was mine, though I did not like at first.

Only a vague picture of a glass,
From the parallel-foggy mirror world
My shadow moves in the City, but another -
We were on you, and all the dreams are there
That, sadly not happened dumb life ...