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herauf von die Wiesen reich mit Mais
die hypocritic Tage
sie war eine Schönheit an den Tagen
tun Sie die Jungen und Mädchen gehen noch
über dem Fluß auf dem Hügel
sie sprengte fierce Wein
ich brenne keinen Duft
es gibt ein, das dieses i einmal so sehr liebte
ich sah, daß Gott Sie es? bezweifeln
innerhalb meiner Hand halte ich
gestiegen von den Toten
ich sah die Wolken unter den Hügeln
die Dämmerung war apfelgrün

 



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