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spanish poem

die langen resounding Marmorflure
Sonne trat unten von seinem goldenen Throne
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
ich ging auf und ab die Straßen
steigender Mond hat die Sterne versteckt
seien Sie nicht mit mir verärgert
seien Sie in mir als die ewigen Stimmungen
O angemessen und stately Mädchen, dessen Augen
Sonne und Wind und Schlag von Meer
weich jetzt das Licht des Tages

 



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