I revealed
with a soft rustle
eyes of pages ...
And pulled
gunpowder
from all borders.
Not again,
which for twenty,
in a thunder-storm to grow.
We have nothing to do with
rejoice,
but there is nothing
to be sad.
Burning water is history.
Threats
and war
we will prune
in the open air,
how he cuts
keel wave.
1927


Disclaimer: I just found these in my library. I do not have the rights to them,
 I just them and decided to share them with you.