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Published by Coracle (2006)
The young poet L. wrote:
What a wonderful feeling to be with you,
Though you are never here,
Though you will never come,
Though you will never kiss.
His uncle M., also a poet, rectified it:
Though you fall asleep in the arms of a stranger.
Though you cheat on me each morning.
Their experienced domestic, old Janne,
Then spoke the following way:
If there is no object of desire in the physical sense,
There’s no use bothering with poems.
What a wonderful feeling to be able to kick somebody in the ass.