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writing poetry

mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
ich sah die erste Birne
welches ich erwähnen möchte
alter Wein zum Trinken
diese Herzen wurden von den menschlichen Freuden und Obacht gesponnen
Liebe ist tausend Möglichkeiten gesungen worden
Moonlight tief und zart
ich weiß nicht wo
glooms der Lebeneichen
ich liebte eine Frau
aber ich kann nicht Sie jetzt lesen
plötzlich aus den dunklen und belaubten Weisen heraus

 



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