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good bye poem

zweifellos erinnere mich ich noch
der Geruch von stieg so falsch, die zutreffenden Dornen so
er erklärt von den guten alten Zeiten
wickeln Sie die Masse im bewölkten Wetter auf
traurig sprechend
truely
diese sind
Wille schimmern Sie auf dem Meer?
sind sie traurig, die nicht Liebe kennen
machen Sie sich nicht Sorgen, daß er rüber sein
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins

 



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