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anniversary poem

auf und ab geht ihn
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
unter den Bergen wandered ich
könnten wir aber zu wissen
unter dem Erntemond
tun Sie die Jungen und Mädchen gehen noch
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
die Berge sind sie leise Völker
grĂĽnes Nachmittagsserene und hell
aus mir heraus unwĂĽrdig und unbekannt
gebildet vom loveliness alleine
ich sah ihn einmal vorher
ich liebe mein Leben, aber nicht zu gut

 



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