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suicide poem

eine Meile nach
Tag ist erfolgt
in Ihren Armen war ruhige Freude
sie kennt eine preiswerte Freigabe
die Masse hält etwas Erschütterungsgehen
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
sehen Sie, sie zurückgehen
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
achtzig Jahre haben und mehr überschritten
welches hält
ich mag es
steigender Mond hat die Sterne versteckt

 



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