Roses are red
violets are blue
flowers fall from trees
and stay in the truf.
The green shrubbery
and the black oil
the stalks glancing
the life in the trees coils
Existance hesitates
wind vouches
that nature upbraids
it doesn't look good
is bewitching what they do, what they kill for
is mere trifle.
Briskly killing love
an acquaintance enemy
hate is their supper
they destroy heaven's bequeathed
humans are conceited and greedy.
they'll only see when we are all dead
that they can't drink
nor eat money, only then
when had already leave.
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