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pastor appreciation poem

herauf von den SĂĽden am Bruch des Tages
einmal dieser weiche Rasen
ich liebte eine Frau
wie wild, wie Hexe-wie sonderbares, das das Leben sein sollte
wenn Nacht entlang den StraĂźen der Stadt treibt
aber alas, gerade Träume
wer der Läufer in den Himmeln ist
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
achtzig Jahre haben und mehr ĂĽberschritten
was ich Ihnen verdanken
ich sehe allen menschlichen Esprit
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben

 



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