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retirement poem

durch die rude Brücke
von Song und Traum für überhaupt gegangen
hoch-getragenes Rennen
machen Sie sich nicht Sorgen, daß er rüber sein
an der Dämmerung sagte er
drehen Sie nicht Ihren Kopf
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
schauen Sie heraus nach den Sternen, meine Liebe
niedrig! ' tis ein Galanacht

 



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