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funeral poem

die Luft ist wie ein Schmetterling
ich sah, daß Gott Sie es? bezweifeln
wenn der Schleier von den Augen angehoben wird
dieses ist das Arsenal
bis zu ihrem Raumfenster
mittlere Vergnügen und Paläste, obwohl wir durchstreifen können
hohe Wände und sehr groß
ich liebe meine Stunde des Winds und des Lichtes
der Duft kam
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
allein
sind Sie lebendig?

 



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