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urdu poetry

jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
lassen Sie mich traurig sein
gute Frau
traurig sprechend
welches hält
eins nach dem anderen wie verläßt von einem Baum
ein süß ernster Gedanke
über dem Fluß winken sie zu mir zu
ich sterbe
ich singe Ihnen
die Wiese kroch
weich als das Bett in der Masse
ich habe das Rennen gewonnen
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben

 



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