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lyric poem

Schlaf, grauer Bruder des Todes
traurige Rolle der gedämpften Trommel hat Schlag
sie fragen mich, wo ich gewesen bin
lassen Sie das reizende Wortunsaid
vor dem ernsten Bronzeheiligen
melancholische Tage sind gekommen
sie muß zurück gehen, sagte sie
Freund, dessen Lächeln gekommen ist zu sein
dunkelstes, merkwürdigstes Geheimnis
sehr gut Sie Liberale
ich mag es
schöne, tragical Gesichter
er war ein hohes junges oysterman
weich jetzt das Licht des Tages


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