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brother poem

unter dusky Lorbeerblatt
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
aller Tag zum Aufpassen der blauen Welle sich zu kräuseln und zu brechen
sie können von der Liebe in einem Häuschen sprechen
allein
wir waren nicht viele
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
ich mag es
gegangen die drei, jene seltenen Schwestern

 



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