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epic poetry

ich gehe hinunter die Gartenwege
meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld
Hinausschieben, vainly kämpfend
so gefallen
Glasbläser der Zeit
in den Wolke-grauen Morgen
für Wahrheit für Liebe
ein Fliegenwort von hier und dort
um Mitternacht
meine ganze Liebe für meinen Bonbon
das traurigste des Jahres
wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich

 



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