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sad death poem

gegangen die drei, jene seltenen Schwestern
ein mit Ihnen
rückwärts drehen Sie sich rückwärts
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
Melancholie, Blau war sie
wie wie die Sterne dieses Weiß ist, namenlose Gesichter
ein Himmel, der nie Sonne, Mond oder Sterne gekannt hat
dieses Jahr
welches hält
ich halte Ihr Herz
Nacht ist dunkel und die Winterwinde
traurig sprechend

 



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