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thanksgiving poem

die Masse hält etwas Erschütterungsgehen
unter dusky Lorbeerblatt
Sonne und Wind und Schlag von Meer
alter Wein zum Trinken
die hypocritic Tage
ich liege am Tabellenberg
wie ich sollen Sie, helfen Sie rechts der Welt, die falsch geht
wenig Park, den ich durch führe
umsponnen und gesponnen
nie in meinem ganzem Leben
süsses splendor
sie hörte die Kinder, in der Sonne zu spielen

 



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