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Lost Love in Munich

Bow to me my bent feet tramping,

each swish of motor belts to Strasbourg.

Bow my beat my body's breaking

each terminal’s no relief I’m wanting.

Brain me here with stones you’re flying

If I have to go stop all moves moving

Each hour with you was one year's living

You cast me make my last years useless

I throw my new years alone and aimless

If the core cannot to the flesh keep clinging

stop all moves here, turn time’s illusion desultory -

that he is.

Without you my blood’s minute course

takes to seeming too long to travel

so let me bleed,

or let me now not ever reach my new year’s destination

Ezurum 1983