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teen poetry

es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand
ich sah mit geöffneten Augen
meine zutreffende Liebe von ihrem Kissen stieg
das traurigste des Jahres
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
gaily durch die Felder tanzten wir
lassen Sie einen Freudenunterhalt Sie
während ich das Hören stand, diskret dumb
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
wer den Regen liebt
aus dem funkelnden Meer heraus

 



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