ich könnt das schloss nie wieder hörn
weil mich die hellen töne störn
die jener junge fluss mir ließ
der irgendwo in frankreich fließt
so manches wird man nie mehr los
für so was gibt es keinen trost
zumal für den, der überlebt
und nicht mehr nach den sternen strebt
© 2011
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June '23 |
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Archives
You see, here you'll find poems of opportunity and seasons. They're mine, though, so I have to protect them.
Welcome! If you are willing to follow the iconian path, you should know that it is always you we are talking to, even if it is not. And that everything is true, even if it is not. We all are eternally united in the last space possible where even the impossible is real. We ought to believe the foretold: If we'll meet tomorrow, next year, or never, it doesn't matter, it's only time! And everything, even time is fiction.
By the way, typos and other mistakes - we know there are many. If you can be bothered, please let us know. Thank you! And for any legal issues, please contact us before we have to tell you that we're skinned. But you can also write, of course, if you like what you read. Please, write to the webmaster.
