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poem

meine zutreffende Liebe von ihrem Kissen stieg
wie Adler auf hoher Höhe
die langen resounding Marmorflure
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
die hypocritic Tage
ihr schönes Haar
ich habe sie in der Nacht gehört
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
zweifellos erinnere mich ich noch
ich bete nicht für Frieden
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
ein Dichter, nachdem den Zaum seine Zunge entfernt habend

 



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