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death poetry

wickeln Sie die Masse im bewölkten Wetter auf
ich habe die Welt geworfen
unter dusky Lorbeerblatt
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
sind Sie lebendig?
Massentravails
ich bin vom Sein bitter und träge vom Sein klug träge
auf und an
sie sagte
als ich am Sonnenuntergang zurückkam
ich habe sie in der Nacht gehört

 



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