Skip to content
1650

204. Man achtet das Ewige nicht

Angelus Silesius

Ach weh! um eitle Lust verscherzt man Gut und Blut Und um die ewige fast niemand werben tut!

Cookies on Poetry Cove

We use cookies to remember your language preference and — only with your consent — to learn how Poetry Cove is used. You can change your mind any time.