our pleasant moments fly
here falls no light
now while my lips are living
in his guarded tent
made up of loveliness alone
the saddest of the year
tell me less or tell me more
the swan existing
along the banks
i stood
night is dark, and the winter winds
we were not many
stern cold man
out of me unworthy and unknown
you are clear
the darkness
braided and woven
i reside at table mountain
just now
listen
on and on
sleep, gray brother of death
the dawn was apple-green
there is a country full of wine
under dusky laurel leaf
 Enecko · Thu Jul 20, 2006 @ 12:55am · 0 Comments |
