Zywa
March
Moles and crocuses again
in March, everywhere
where there was grass, nothing
can be done against it
It is the new youth
with its two faces
of beauty and destructiveness
claiming the garden, the world
being reduced to a cake
cottage: laughing
the boys and the girls eat
themselves fat, every day
again the future is open
So who would want to whine
about the grass?
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