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sad death poem

denken Sie, mein Junge, wenn ich meine Arme um Sie setze
der Geruch von stieg so falsch, die zutreffenden Dornen so
ich habe den Silence der Sterne und des Meeres gekannt
die alten Songs
seien Sie in mir als die ewigen Stimmungen
erklären Sie mir nicht
wenn es
die kleinen weiĂźen Gebete
nicht von der breiten Welt des Ganzen
meine Seele geht in den gorgeous Sachen plattiert

 



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