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lyric poem

Freund, dessen Lächeln gekommen ist zu sein
in den Wolke-grauen Morgen
es gibt ein Land voll des Weins
truely
melancholische Tage sind gekommen
es ist zutreffend, daß Sie sagen, daß die Götter mehr Gebrauch zu Ihnen als Feen sind
Himmel, die sie waren, ashen und nüchtern
die Sonne ist oben
ich gehe meine Weise complacently
einmal dieser weiche Rasen
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
welches hält

 



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