“My little goodbye”
Here lies the still heart of Lutgartje.
The record cleaned, it’s over
she is never free to ask questions again.
When my song is sung
and life is over
when my sponge is wrung out,
I will go without a murmur.
Then let the scythe come,
The song is over, it has been beautiful.
Then let me dream forever,
of an everlasting celebration.
When nothing is necessary and nothing is possible anymore,
bury me next to my quiet, dear husband.
–
