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happy birthday poem

Vögel gegen den Aprilwind
wölbte die Flut
die Schwärzung rollt aufwärts
gebildet vom loveliness alleine
ich singe Ihnen
drehen Sie nicht Ihren Kopf
unter den Bergen wandered ich
Himmel, die sie waren, ashen und nüchtern
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
dieses ist das Schiff der Perle
ich bot sie aller Abschied
ihr schönes Haar

 



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