The Brown Book of the Hitler Terror

In Bednib's shop I picked up a book
An actor came in in a floating gown
He gave me an objective look
I put the book down.

And went into the sunlit streets
Where cars like shuttles passed my eyes
Discreet, I cried, discreet, discreet
And only Socrates was wise.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.