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short love poem

alle innen und alle ohne mich
Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert
da ich der Richtung des Todes geglaubt habe
wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
zwei Reihen der Kohlpflanzen
tat Sie hören überhaupt
Sie sind frei
rühren Sie sich
ein dünner grauer Schatten auf dem Rand des Gedankens
es war der Herbst des Jahres
Nobility des Todes wieder
einige windigere Tage
den brennenden Gedanken kleiden

 



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