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romantic poem

traurige Rolle der gedämpften Trommel hat Schlag
wie er wer Geist in der Flamme des Mittages
hören Sie
Sie sind mein Begleiter
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
diese sind
ein süß ernster Gedanke
lassen Sie uns Pity die, denen besser seien Sie weg von, als wir sind
lassen Sie einen Freudenunterhalt Sie
es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand

 



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