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nature poem

wie er wer Geist in der Flamme des Mittages
seien Sie nicht falsch
ich verachte meine Freunde mehr als Sie
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld
Stadt, die nicht eine Stadt ist
unter den Bergen wandered ich
als es
ich schleuderte meine Seele zur Luft wie einem Falkefliegen
in seinem vorsichtigen Zelt
ein Blick ist aber ein Strahl

 



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