Classic Poem

I

You have to do so defiantly not give this to,
already flared up a purple fire in the fireplace:
stay with me, friend, for it is toward evening,
and darkness will draw in your soul.
Come on, just sit in the old leather chair,
in here the silence breaks no single word,
and only the small bare kettle
hangs between us and preach constantly.

II

Well solvent from the soul
everyday iron band,
the land that I will show you
this is holy ground.

It behold as slender trees
with white flowers roof
childhood curled dreams
the sun's rays after.

It springs from flowers reason
as Bronnen, light clears,
the only one hour
because I was the love.

To send your soul
quiet in my country into:
I bathe them in his
goldgoldnen sunshine.