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sad poem

ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
den brennenden Gedanken kleiden
einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben
ich schleuderte meine Seele zur Luft wie einem Falkefliegen
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
durch die rude Brücke
durch das Ufer durch das Meer
zweifellos erinnere mich ich noch
ich sehe einen Stern heute abend

 



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