Dawn is near again
And you know what a
Great year this turned out to be
Free, and though
I sometimes fly to a
Nearby shore I
Never forget July lying on
Kafkas floor, and once more was
October broken, fall
Came knocking at my door
Hardly ever spoken of
Joy and then nothing more
Energized and strong
Golden, rare dewdrop, to the
Elector it belongs
Looking through the bookshop
Searching for hidden grace or a
Kingly cape suitable for an
Elated pace walking through a
Rugged landscape cherishing the
Dearest silence and the
Evening moon rising
Giving everything balance, though surprising