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sad poem

wenn ich gekonnt hatte, Enge ein Gefängnis Liebe ist
ihr schönes Haar
meine zutreffende Liebe von ihrem Kissen stieg
ich halte Ihr Herz
häufig denke ich an die schöne Stadt
haben Sie gesehenes Gehen durch das Dorf
ein kleiner Pfirsich im Obstgarten wuchs
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
sie kennt eine preiswerte Freigabe
in seinem vorsichtigen Zelt

 



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