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wedding poetry

häufig denke ich an die schöne Stadt
königliches Fest war erfolgt
und während wir gingen, wurde das Gras schwach gerührt
ich kann nicht seinem greatness immer glauben
ich bete nicht für Frieden
das traurigste des Jahres
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
wenn, voll von der warmen und eifrigen Liebe
wer der Läufer in den Himmeln ist
das Kind, das weg Blatt nach Blatt warf

 



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