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son poem

die Sonne ist oben
sehen Sie, von dieser Fälschung von ihm
oben auslösen, unten fallend
burly, DösenHumblebiene
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
rückwärts drehen Sie sich rückwärts
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
es gibt Gewinne für alle unsere Verluste
ich sah, daß Gott Sie es? bezweifeln
ich hatte den Fall über-vorbereitet
die Schwärzung stiehlt die Formen aller Königinnen
hängen Sie keinen Wreath

 



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