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teen poem

denken Sie, mein Junge, wenn ich meine Arme um Sie setze
diese Herzen wurden von den menschlichen Freuden und Obacht gesponnen
wie wie die Sterne dieses Weiß ist, namenlose Gesichter
der Duft kam
von Fußboden zu Decke
der Geruch von stieg so falsch, die zutreffenden Dornen so
herrlich und schrecklich Ihre Liebe
ihr Gesicht ist angemessen und glatt und fein
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
ich sah, daß Gott Sie es? bezweifeln

 



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