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modern poetry

ich bot sie aller Abschied
die Berge sind sie leise Völker
die Dichter sagen
ängstlich nicht mehr, sage ich
da ich der Richtung des Todes geglaubt habe
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
sie hat einen freien Raum, Wind-geschütztes loveliness
zu einigem die fetten Götter
unter dem Helm des Warriors
Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
warum dann, Muß wir? sieht

 



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