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narrative poetry

in das leise Land
es gibt Gewinne für alle unsere Verluste
ich sagte, ich habe geschlossen mein Herz
die kleinen weißen Gebete
obwohl Lieberepine und Grundscheuern
Dame, Ihr Herz hat an Staub gewendet
es gab ein strangeness auf Ihren Lippen
schauen Sie zurück mit longing Augen und wissen Sie, daß ich folge
Melancholie, Blau war sie
er kam mich durch die Hand nehmen
wölbte die Flut
Glück

 



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