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angel poem

aber alas, gerade Träume
die Luft ist wie ein Schmetterling
was ich Ihnen verdanken
auf und ab geht ihn
ihr Gesicht ist angemessen und glatt und fein
jetzt, während meine Lippen leben
in ihren zackigen regimentals
zum leidenschaftlichen Geliebten
wenn Nacht entlang den StraĂźen der Stadt treibt
lassen Sie nicht hören
KurzschluĂź und sĂĽsses und wir sind zum Ende von ihm gekommen
meine zutreffende Liebe von ihrem Kissen stieg
wer den Regen liebt

 



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