I taught the weeping willow how to cry
To see in himself that he felt forsaken
And seeing sadness, I felt the sympathy to try
And reached my hand, although it be not taken

Rooted in a ground of incomprehension
That deprived him of a willows vivacity
And darkened his brightest heaven of invention
And emptiness became his daily  melody

As for his loneliness  he took my hand
And as for comfort, I gave him mine
And placed his roots again on fertile land
I taught the weeping willow how tears can entertwine

I wanted to bring order to the archive in my head
There I found a paper gravely wrinkled
Forgotten and unread

Long have I denied and altered its appearance
And kept it orderly away from sincere reality
But the unread became known with all its clearance
When the world on the paper opened up in front of me

And the blinding light that paper carried out
Struck me with indefinable surreality
A world that was neither glorious nor proud
But still a part of the archive inside of me