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sad poem

wer den Regen liebt
wer der Läufer in den Himmeln ist
ich habe die Welt geworfen
aber ich kann nicht Sie jetzt lesen
so gefallen
Schlaf süß in Ihren humble Gräbern
gestiegen von den Toten
Nacht ist dunkel und die Winterwinde
in den Wolke-grauen Morgen
alter Wein zum Trinken
lassen Sie hören
Material des Mondes
süß und stark
ein dünner grauer Schatten auf dem Rand des Gedankens

 



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