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sad poetry

ich sah die archangels in meinem Apfel-Baum gestern Abend
in Ihrem Flug
in die Dunkelheit und Frieden meinem abschließenden Betts
Sturm
weich weinend
es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand
schreckliche Wahrheiten diese sind
ich brenne keinen Duft
erklären Sie mir nicht
melancholische Tage sind gekommen
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
ich sagte, ich habe geschlossen mein Herz
jetzt für einen lebhaften und freundlichen Kampf
geben Sie mich

 



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