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thanksgiving poetry

in das leise Land
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
nie in meinem ganzem Leben
geheimnisvolle Nacht
ich sah ihn einmal vorher
wer den Regen liebt
gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums
ich sagte, ich habe geschlossen mein Herz
unsere angenehmen Momente fliegen
die Schwärzung rollt aufwärts
die Sterne fielen vom Himmel
ich denke sie gerades herrliches
ich bin alt und blind
traurig sprechend

 



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