Morning star, Christian
A main feature of all pedagogy: leading unnoticed
A pike, converted by St. Anton, decided, together with his wife and son, to cling to vegetarian thoughts
A cold is crouching on the terrace / so that he can take a victim // - and immediately falls with great fury / on a person named Schrimm // Paul Schrimm promptly replies: Pitchu! / and has it on until Monday morning
A weasel / sat on a pebble / in the midst of a trickling stream // Do you know / why? // The moon calf / told me / silently: // The clever / th animal / did it for the sake of rhyme
A caricature is only true for a moment
Since then he only ate this: / Seaweed, water lily and sea grit / But grit, grass, rose flowed out, oh horror, / horribly from behind
Once upon a time there was a picket fence, / with space to look through
Whole eons of love will be needed to repay the animals for their services and merits to us
Conversation is mutual distanced touch
I'm a new street / still without a house, oh horror / I'm a new street / and I look funny
I am now a thousand years old / and am getting older every day / the Goth king Theobald / brought me up in a container
I didn't pick some flowers for you today to bring you their lives
I don't shoot seagulls dead, / I'd rather let them live - / and feed them rye bread / and reddish zibebes
Every landscape has its own special soul
Let the molecules race, / whatever they cobble together! / Stop tinkering, stop planing, / keep ecstasies holy!
A pike, converted by St. Anton, decided, together with his wife and son, to cling to vegetarian thoughts
A cold is crouching on the terrace / so that he can take a victim // - and immediately falls with great fury / on a person named Schrimm // Paul Schrimm promptly replies: Pitchu! / and has it on until Monday morning
A weasel / sat on a pebble / in the midst of a trickling stream // Do you know / why? // The moon calf / told me / silently: // The clever / th animal / did it for the sake of rhyme
A caricature is only true for a moment
Since then he only ate this: / Seaweed, water lily and sea grit / But grit, grass, rose flowed out, oh horror, / horribly from behind
Once upon a time there was a picket fence, / with space to look through
Whole eons of love will be needed to repay the animals for their services and merits to us
Conversation is mutual distanced touch
I'm a new street / still without a house, oh horror / I'm a new street / and I look funny
I am now a thousand years old / and am getting older every day / the Goth king Theobald / brought me up in a container
I didn't pick some flowers for you today to bring you their lives
I don't shoot seagulls dead, / I'd rather let them live - / and feed them rye bread / and reddish zibebes
Every landscape has its own special soul
Let the molecules race, / whatever they cobble together! / Stop tinkering, stop planing, / keep ecstasies holy!