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sad poem

ich war eine Göttin, ere der Marmor mich fand
Sitzen in seinem Schalthebel, der Ihren Tee wartet
gute Frau
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
unsere angenehmen Momente fliegen
gegangen vor uns
die langen resounding Marmorflure
er spricht nicht gut
während ich das Hören stand, diskret dumb
warum dann, Muß wir? sieht
machen Sie sich nicht um das unsichtbare Sorgen
ein mit Ihnen

 



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