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sad poem

ich sagte
das Emporheben, als der Wind brannte durch
dieses ist der Song von Jugend
wer der Läufer in den Himmeln ist
unsere angenehmen Momente fliegen
das traurigste des Jahres
in seinem vorsichtigen Zelt
blau-schwarze nubian zupfende Orangen
lassen Sie uns unsere niedrigeren Neigungen ausdrücken
wenn, voll von der warmen und eifrigen Liebe
ich wundere mich, wo Sie leben
geschaukelt in die Aufnahmevorrichtung vom tiefen

 



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