Klara’s Universe

If one does not live to tell

The stories hidden benneath one’s heart,

Then why would stary nights

And rainy days be sent to us?

If there is nothing more to life

Than people, things we take for granted,

And feel that all our feelings

Have been bestowed on us

For the sole declared purpose

Of self-love and loneliness,

Then where would spring’s perfumes

Summer’s beaches and autumn’s leaves

Be exiled by the omnipotent winter

Which should by then already rule

Throughout our hearts?