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poetry poem

wie Adler auf hoher Höhe
wie wild, wie Hexe-wie sonderbares, das das Leben sein sollte
weich weinend
sind sie traurig, die nicht Liebe kennen
wir waren nicht viele
vor tausend leisen Jahren
alter Wein zum Trinken
gibt es jedes dort
nun da ich zu Ihnen abgekühlt bin
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
liebe Frau
Sie sind schön und verblassen
nicht von der breiten Welt des Ganzen

 



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