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nature poem

ich hörte den Wind aller Tag
ich stand das geöffnete Flügelfenster bereit
warum so traurig mein reizendes?
ich loathed Sie
sehen Sie das vorläufige
wo ich sollen Sie, finden Sie Sie
es gab drei in der Wiese durch den Bach
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
ich habe die stolzesten Sterne gesehen
die auf das Oberseite sagen, daß sie Sie, Masse kennen -- sie sind Lügner
unter dem Erntemond

 



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