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retirement poem

ich bin fevered
hören Sie den Regen?
ich habe die Welt geworfen
zu, was eine Frau sie geliebt vergleicht
geben Sie mich
Bruder, bin ich Feuer
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins
seien Sie in mir als die ewigen Stimmungen
hatten er und i aber getroffen
ich fülle diese Schale
im Bereich
sind sie traurig, die nicht Liebe kennen
gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums

 



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