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mom poem

wie wie die Sterne dieses Weiß ist, namenlose Gesichter
die langen resounding Marmorflure
mit dem Sonnenuntergang
schöne, tragical Gesichter
fällt hier kein Licht
sie sprengte fierce Wein
melancholische Tage sind gekommen
dunkelstes, merkwürdigstes Geheimnis
ich gehe hinunter die Gartenwege
hatten er und i aber getroffen
traurige Rolle der gedämpften Trommel hat Schlag

 



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