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baby poem

an der Dämmerung sagte er
in Ihrem Flug
holen Sie mir weichen Song
ich erwarte Sie
der Himmel
ich kann nicht Ihnen jetzt erklären
ich bin alt und blind
gerade als meine Finger auf diesen SchlĂĽsseln
O angemessen und stately Mädchen, dessen Augen
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
weich weinend
ich liebe, eine Weile weg zu stehlen
wickeln Sie die Masse im bewölkten Wetter auf

 



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