Mar
09
2018

Den friska vinden luktade frihet

Vildhästen kom i vild galopp.
Stannade i mitt bergs topp.
Vidgade näsborrarna
i den friska vinden.

Mulen kändes varm mot min kind
luktade frihet och purpurfärgad poppel.

Poesi av Brigitte Ranniger

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