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an der Dämmerung sagte er
da ich der Richtung des Todes geglaubt habe
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
ein mit Ihnen
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
traurige Rolle der gedämpften Trommel hat Schlag
der Schnee whispers über mich
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
nun da ich zu Ihnen abgekühlt bin
als ich in Ihre Augen schaute

 



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