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math poem

ich sah ihn einmal vorher
schwach-weak-winged Song
diese sind
unten gekommen an der Dämmerung von den windless Hügeln
schön
winged Schatten, die vorbei fegen
wir legen
in den Wolke-grauen Morgen
glänzt das letzte Alter, das folgende mit Hoffnung wird gesehen
als ich in Ihre Augen schaute
irgendwo las ich eine merkwürdige, alte, rostige Geschichte
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
war sie nicht für diesen einzigartigen Geruch

 



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