IN EXILE
after In der Fremde by Heinrich Heine
I once had a place to call my own,
I went there for the peace,
to see the crawl of the trees
and watch flowers grow for me.
It was a dream.
But it touched me as if it were mine,
spoke to me as if I owned it,
loved as if it were real
and brought breath for me.
It was a dream.
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