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teacher poem

wenn ich gekonnt hatte, Enge ein Gefängnis Liebe ist
noch dreizehn Jahre
Melancholie, Blau war sie
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
geben Sie mir Hunger
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
der Schnee whispers über mich
dunkelstes, merkwürdigstes Geheimnis
drehen Sie nicht Ihren Kopf
alle jene Schätze, die liegen
ich fülle diese Schale
ein Himmel, der nie Sonne, Mond oder Sterne gekannt hat


 



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