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narrative poetry

Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
gestern Abend legte der Vollmond ein Tuch von Weiß
erklären Sie mir nicht
Farbtöne der Nacht fielen schnell
er kam mich durch die Hand nehmen
lassen Sie mich traurig sein
die Berge sind sie leise Völker
er würde sogar seinen Witz haben
blau-schwarze nubian zupfende Orangen
über dem Fluß auf dem Hügel


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