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autumn poem

ich bin fevered
ich sehe allen menschlichen Esprit
einige windigere Tage
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
sie konnte ihn im früheren Frühling gekannt haben
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
wer der Läufer in den Himmeln ist

 



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