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ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
sie sagte
letzter Mitternacht
Gott
ich sah, daß Gott Sie es? bezweifeln
wer der Läufer in den Himmeln ist
unter dem Erntemond
bleiben Sie nicht mehr
die Sterne fielen vom Himmel
wir, die standen
er würde sogar seinen Witz haben
ängstlich nicht mehr, sage ich
schön

 



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