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sorry poem

die hypocritic Tage
süsses splendor
ich liege am Tabellenberg
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
es gibt keine Menge, gleichwohl aufgepaßt und geneigt
sehen Sie, daß ich Ihnen mich gebe
ich singe Ihnen
lassen Sie das reizende Wortunsaid
in seinem vorsichtigen Zelt
ich gehe hinunter die Gartenwege
ich sah, daß Gott Sie es? bezweifeln

 



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