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narrative poetry

drehen Sie mich unten durch die Wiese
die Luft ist von Dämmerung und Frühling voll
die auf das Oberseite sagen, daß sie Sie, Masse kennen -- sie sind Lügner
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
pharaoh, König von Land Ägyptens
ich sah, daß Sie und shivering auf den Steinen hunched
in seinem vorsichtigen Zelt
lassen Sie mich traurig sein
ich bin in der Liebe mit hohen far-seeing Plätzen


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