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christmas poetry

als ich war, lief London ein
traurig sprechend
ein Sturm fährt auf den Tide
alle jene Schätze, die liegen
das Swanbestehen
Material des Mondes
sehen Sie, sie zurückgehen
gute Frau
erklären Sie mir weniger oder erklären Sie mir mehr
zum leidenschaftlichen Geliebten
der Blitz blitzte und hob an
die Dichter sagen

 



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