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math poem

Tage endeared zu jedem MUSE
das Emporheben, als der Wind brannte durch
winged Schatten, die vorbei fegen
ich habe das Rennen gewonnen
in einem alten Raum beleuchtete weich
melancholische Tage sind gekommen
wenig Park, den ich durch führe
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
die Lattentagesdrowses auf dem westlichen durchtränken
die alten Songs
blau-schwarze nubian zupfende Orangen
wenn ein Brief für Freiheit erfolgt ist


 



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