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free love poem

Kerzen, die seitlich in den Tomatedosen stürzen
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
nie in meinem ganzem Leben
von unseren versteckten Plätzen
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
folglich kann ich nicht
sind Sie wach?
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
traurige Rolle der gedämpften Trommel hat Schlag
in den Wolke-grauen Morgen
wenn es
ich sehe allen menschlichen Esprit
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
unter meinem Fenster in einer Stadtstraße

 



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