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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2003-11-22 | [This text should be read in deutsch] |
Bergeslust, bist mir eine Qual!
Deine Kraft mordet jede Wahl. Ich muss durch Todesklüfte steigen, Kein Menschenkind darf mich begleiten. In einsame Höhn zieht mich mein Wille. Wo ist deine Hand, verachteter Tod? Nicht im Grabe ruht frohlockende Stille, Sie weilt im belebenden Morgenrot. Temeswar, 1973
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