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good bye poem

über ihnen alle, unten schauend
so verloren
nie in meinem ganzem Leben
ich denke sie gerades herrliches
Sturm
eine sehr bemerkenswerte Geschichte dieses ist
die kleinen weißen Gebete
der Regen sein rüber und die leuchtende Luft
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
ich stand das geöffnete Flügelfenster bereit
seien Sie nicht mit mir verärgert
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
die Dichter sagen

 



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