My lust, my joy will then depart..
My son away my grandaugther so far
I can't take in my arms..
Nevermore, nevermore will be as every times
A cursed gramother in waiting line:
At glimpsy theatre, no chair
For her.
These holly days had broken my lure,
Mind too much upset, body relays to cure...
(As Kafka said)..
Bad mother, no gramother..
A tale full of sound and fury
So I retreat for ever
And with my love, may be
My pain will disapear..
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