Now that we are in tropical nights
are on the verge of despair,
Morpheus combat battle
And I wish it softly: “Please, windy!”,
We are like Lord Albatross
Wolfgang Cubitsky is far ahead!
There is no windy modern
So familiar with the rise.
He wrote a book for this
In the eyes of Orhan
Controlled by a pen and notes,
As the author of his stormy novel.
To the final earthquake of the traffic light
In liberal abundance
He gave himself without fear
Illegal free fall.
He just – and this is really a shame –
did not hit for a week keel,
Completely at the Windjammer parade,
Let’s skip: some style.
In the absence of dummies,
Not only at the very front edge of the pot -foca,
Since he is already leaving traces –
Wet with moist to dry dock.
