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brother poem

wie ich innen roofed liege, innen aussortiert
Sie sind frei
wer den Regen liebt
drehen Sie nicht Ihren Kopf
wie wie die Sterne dieses Weiß ist, namenlose Gesichter
süsses splendor
achtzig Jahre haben und mehr überschritten
erneuern Sie den Anblick der Freude
das traurigste des Jahres
sie kennt eine preiswerte Freigabe
ich war eine Göttin, ere der Marmor mich fand
in den Hallen des Schlafes wandered Sie vorbei

 



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