The wall of Berlin was pulled down.

People went wild with joy.

I trembled with fear.

They raised hammers,

Yelling at the rubble.

People cracked with joy.

The frightening picture of the far away country

Crucified me on that night.

When I was twelve,

A voice echoing in a classroom became lyrics and tales.

Chattering in a passage was my small locked world.

Sad accidents in the news disappeared one after another.

The world could be created as I liked.

When I was twenty,

The colour of the words has faded.

The lock has become not to set but to be set.

Bloody people couldn't disappear by any eminent papers.

The world was fragile, fluid and ugly.

The world, creation of mine

Was pulled down by someone

With a five-mark hammer.