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famous poem

Bruder, bin ich Feuer
für diese weißen Arme über meinen Ansatz
allein
gestiegen von den Toten
drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
im Hafen neuen Yorks
ich sehe einen Stern heute abend
Standplatz hier durch meine Seite
ein Leben auf der Ozeanwelle
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
warum so traurig mein reizendes?

 



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