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poem and quote

es gab drei in der Wiese durch den Bach
die Schwärzung
warum
wenig Park, den ich durch führe
ich war eine Göttin, ere der Marmor mich fand
ein Sturm fährt auf den Tide
gerade jetzt
ich liege am Tabellenberg
ich stehe im kalten grauen Wetter
der Geruch von stieg so falsch, die zutreffenden Dornen so
ich kann nicht Ihnen jetzt erklären
lassen Sie hören
schön

 



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