IRC-Galleria

Squeezing his black nose on the window-pane:
this dog waiting and waiting for someone

I am burying my hand into his fur,
I too am waiting for someone

You remeber dog that a woman
lived here at one time,

of whom I am not able to say
what in the end she was to me:

whether she was a wife or a sister
or maybe like a growing daughter.

She was gone. You settle quietly.
There will be no other woman here.

My splendid dog, so good at everything.
what a pity it is you don't drink.