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God Has Pity On Kindergarten Children

Tonight I Think Again Of Many Days That Are Sacrificed For One Night Of Love. Of The Waste And The Fruit Of The Waste, Of Plenty And Of Fire. And How Painlessly-time.

And As We Stray Further From Love, We Multiply The Words. Had We Remained Together We Could Have Become A Silence.

The Memory Of My Father Is Wrapped Up In White Paper, Like Sandwiches Taken For A Day Of Work. Just As A Magician Takes Towers And Rabbits Out Of His Hat, He Drew Love From His Small Body.

And I Said To Myself: That's True, Hope Needs To Be Like Barbed Wire To Keep Out Despair, Hope Must Be A Mine Field.