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father poem

denken Sie, mein Junge, wenn ich meine Arme um Sie setze
unter meinem Fenster in einer Stadtstraße
in ihren zackigen regimentals
seien Sie in mir als die ewigen Stimmungen
Sie sind frei
weich weinend
wenn Sie heute abend kommen
sind Sie lebendig?
weich jetzt das Licht des Tages
unter den Bergen wandered ich
vor tausend leisen Jahren
als ich war, lief London ein
hatten er und i aber getroffen
ich sah mit geöffneten Augen

 



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