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def poetry

die Luft ist wie ein Schmetterling
rühren Sie sich
melancholische Tage sind gekommen
Nacht war schwarz und drear
ich denke sie gerades herrliches
bis zu ihrem Raumfenster
ich sehe allen menschlichen Esprit
plƶtzlich aus den dunklen und belaubten Weisen heraus
noch dreizehn Jahre
weich als das Bett in der Masse
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
ich schleuderte meine Seele zur Luft wie einem Falkefliegen
Sturm

 



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