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sorry poem

hören Sie den Regen?
Liebe ist tausend Möglichkeiten gesungen worden
ich bin vom Sein bitter und träge vom Sein klug träge
sehen Sie, daß ich Ihnen mich gebe
gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums
schauen Sie heraus nach den Sternen, meine Liebe
zu einigem die fetten Götter
und so geht sie
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
lassen Sie uns Pity die, denen besser seien Sie weg von, als wir sind

 



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