Union City, NJ, Nov. 29, 1972

Customs in winter

By Vladimir Huber

As you hide your beauty
behind the tough iron wall that surrounds you
I still get a glimpse of that tenderness that you can’t fake away
You try hard not to show what you feel
but when the sun is so clear
we just cannot think about dusk

When I pick-up the paper in the morning
I feel ashamed of so much anger and confusion
‘cause hatred has been shown as hatred

When you try to pick me up
you feel as if you were wearing a custom
so I wouldn’t recognize your sweet hands
while they caress me all around
with the gentle care that a blind man would see

If it’s beauty what you have
and you feel so bad about mixing it with love
and you want to make a contribution to this world
all what you have to do my girl, is to be
‘cause when purity is present, it only needs to arise.