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romantic poem

läßt lang das Sommertageslicht glänzen
gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums
ich weiß nicht wo
ich sah ihn einmal vorher
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
Freund, dessen Lächeln gekommen ist zu sein
drehen Sie nicht Ihren Kopf
sehen Sie, daß ich Ihnen mich gebe
wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
ein kleiner Pfirsich im Obstgarten wuchs
gibt es jedes dort


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