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thank you poem

wenig Park, den ich durch führe
im September
Schlaf, grauer Bruder des Todes
melancholische Tage sind gekommen
ich sehe einen Stern heute abend
gegangen vor uns
noch dreizehn Jahre
zweifellos erinnere mich ich noch
voll von den Rissen
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
der Schnee whispers über mich
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
in die Dunkelheit und Frieden meinem abschließenden Betts


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