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narrative poetry

wer den Regen liebt
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
obwohl Lieberepine und Grundscheuern
aus dem tiefen heraus und die Dunkelheit
nun da ich zu Ihnen abgekühlt bin
es gibt Gewinne für alle unsere Verluste
ich sehe einen Stern heute abend
und so geht sie
als weiße Kerze

 



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