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sad poem

meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
hören Sie zum klingenden Meer
haben Sie gesehenes Gehen durch das Dorf
warum Sie immer der dort shivering Standplatz tun Sie
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
ich sehe allen menschlichen Esprit
drehen Sie mich unten durch die Wiese
ich denke sie gerades herrliches
Sie sind mein Begleiter
das Kind, das weg Blatt nach Blatt warf
während ich das Hören stand, diskret dumb
den brennenden Gedanken kleiden

 



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