Francisco
Build the towers you want,
this and that; green, red, and black,
Who defends you, that’s your business, but
Franciska is mine, my freedom.
Don’t pretend you don’t hear,
Neither prophets nor sorcerers will pass you by.
They will not help you.
Francisca is not interested in those planets of yours,
nor comets from which you send kisses and hugs.
Franciska is spring and summer and fertile autumn,
and you are winter, your cold soul.
That sounds like you.
Emerald Fortifications,
White Crystal Spears are nothing.
Nor the fire of the wicked dragons of heaven
they won’t help, they won’t help you.
Free bird, It’s Franciska!
Sweet words have long since faded.
She is the queen of all the colors of
the ocean and sea and all the purple dawns.
She is but a nightmare for you.
For me, there will be all of her colors.
She is mine,
The most beautiful queen.
A harsh word can kill, if I utter it.
So, dear God, I do not play with love.
I love you Dear Franciska
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