Changing World
J
Jan Oskar Hansen
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Changing World
The island it too low and the ocean is
a stalking monster,
washes the village road at high tide.
Coffins come up from damp ground
set sail at sunrise, only stone crosses
remain like ship-less anchors and
names are slowly washed away.
It is hard to leave your ancestral home
romanticised and dead.
A summer full of sadness, a longing
for other summers drowned by the sea.
Bu şiiri puanla
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