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baby poem

hören Sie den Regen?
gibt es jedes dort
ich hörte den Wind aller Tag
im Bereich
wölbte die Flut
und während wir gingen, wurde das Gras schwach gerührt
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
ich singe Ihnen
allein
Gott
meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld
geschaukelt in die Aufnahmevorrichtung vom tiefen

 



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