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life poetry

welches hält
hoch-getragenes Rennen
traurig sprechend
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
die auf das Oberseite sagen, daß sie Sie, Masse kennen -- sie sind Lügner
die einzelne zusammengeprgessene angehobene Faust und bereiten vor
es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand
umsponnen und gesponnen
Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert
sind sie traurig, die nicht Liebe kennen
aber alas, gerade Träume
wenn die Stunden des Tages numeriert werden

 



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