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friend poem

wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
durch die ausgedehnten schmerzende Brust der Masse
drehen Sie mich unten durch die Wiese
ängstlich nicht mehr, sage ich
meine sorge, wenn sie hier mit mir ist
herauf von die Wiesen reich mit Mais
die Bögen der roten Brücke
tat Sie sehen ĂĽberhaupt ein Krokodil
Tag ist erfolgt
erneuern Sie den Anblick der Freude
die alten Songs

 



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