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spanish poem

eine Feder des Stahls
sehen Sie, daß ich Ihnen mich gebe
mit den meek, braunen Augen
sie hat einen freien Raum, Wind-geschütztes loveliness
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
Tag ist erfolgt
lassen Sie uns unsere niedrigeren Neigungen ausdrücken
Töchter der Zeit
in den mournful Zahlen
hören Sie den Regen?
Kerzen, die seitlich in den Tomatedosen stürzen

 



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