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pumpkin poem

ich stand das geöffnete Flügelfenster bereit
hoch-getragenes Rennen
Sonne trat unten von seinem goldenen Throne
sie in der Schwärzungsversammlung und bitten
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
Nobility des Todes wieder
nie in meinem ganzem Leben
schauen Sie heraus nach den Sternen, meine Liebe
sie sprengte fierce Wein
gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums
wenn Sie heute abend kommen

 



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