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poems

die Sonne ist oben
so verloren
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
seien Sie, Leben geduldig, wenn Liebe am Gatter ist
haben Sie gesehenes Gehen durch das Dorf
ich war eine Göttin, ere der Marmor mich fand
alle jene Schätze, die liegen
durch die rude BrĂĽcke
Farbtöne der Nacht fielen schnell
auf und an
melancholische Tage sind gekommen
ich hörte den Wind aller Tag

 



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