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poem for pastors

warum Sie immer der dort shivering Standplatz tun Sie
wer den Wind nennen wird
ich stand
lassen Sie mich durch die Straße langsam bewegen
ich stand das geöffnete Flügelfenster bereit
aus dem Fenster heraus ein Meer der grünen Bäume
welches ich erwähnen möchte
wie er wer Geist in der Flamme des Mittages
Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
gute Frau
ich bin in das Ödland gekommen, weil meine Seele athirst ist
wenn der Schleier von den Augen angehoben wird

 



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