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epic poetry

in einem alten Raum beleuchtete weich
ich wußte nie, daß die Masse soviel Gold hatte
welches hält
noch schaukelt ihr Grau Aufsatz über das Meer
Schlaf süß in Ihren humble Gräbern
wölbte die Flut
Freund, dessen Lächeln gekommen ist zu sein
gelebt durch den River-side
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
einfach sprechend
um Mitternacht
schreckliche Wahrheiten diese sind
alle werfen die Jahre nieder
haben Sie gesehenes Gehen durch das Dorf

 



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