Someone on Paros


 Don't worry, I leave quietly

not asking for a kiss,

 flying back to Germany

knowing you won't miss

 me the way, some others do,

 but then I don't know anyway

 if I really wanted you

 begging me to stay.


 That you attract me year by year

 is something rather queer,

 even though, you hardly care

 I love to see you here;

 still I'm glad, you don't desire

 to hold me close and tight

it wouldn't be a lasting fire

 but ashes over night.