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fall poetry

lassen Sie mich durch die Straße langsam bewegen
ich bin in das Ödland gekommen, weil meine Seele athirst ist
gelebt durch den River-side
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
zweifellos erinnere mich ich noch
neben einem geschlagenen Feld
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
Sonne trat unten von seinem goldenen Throne
wenn ich sehr sicher war
die Bögen der roten Brücke
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein


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