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death poetry

liebe Frau
sind sie traurig, die nicht Liebe kennen
die Schwrzung
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau na sind
melancholische Tage sind gekommen
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
glnzt das letzte Alter, das folgende mit Hoffnung wird gesehen
dieses ist der Song von Jugend
es gab ein strangeness auf Ihren Lippen
wenn Nacht entlang den Straen der Stadt treibt
er erklrt von den guten alten Zeiten

 



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