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pastor appreciation poem

jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
Himmel, die sie waren, ashen und nĂĽchtern
ich habe das Rennen gewonnen
wer der Läufer in den Himmeln ist
Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert
ich gehe hinunter die Gartenwege
in den Hallen des Schlafes wandered Sie vorbei
die auf das Oberseite sagen, daĂź sie Sie, Masse kennen -- sie sind LĂĽgner
die Masse hält etwas Erschütterungsgehen
hohe Wände und sehr groß

 



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