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christian poem

ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
ich habe daß eine bestimmte Prinzessin gehört
gegangen die drei, jene seltenen Schwestern
die Dämmerung war apfelgrün
ich habe die stolzesten Sterne gesehen
ich brenne keinen Duft
ich denke sie gerades herrliches
weiße Schaumgummiblume, rote Flammeblume
Kurzschluß und süsses und wir sind zum Ende von ihm gekommen

 



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