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poem for pastors

die Dämmerung war apfelgrün
ein Sturm fährt auf den Tide
ich hörte den Wind aller Tag
dort durch das Fenster im alten Haus
meine zutreffende Liebe von ihrem Kissen stieg
es war der Herbst des Jahres
vor drei Jahren heute
drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
nicht von der breiten Welt des Ganzen

 



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