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haiku poem

wenn der Schleier von den Augen angehoben wird
wenn die Stunden des Tages numeriert werden
und noch gingen sie an
gegangen vor uns
könnten wir aber zu wissen
Schlaf, grauer Bruder des Todes
winged Schatten, die vorbei fegen
wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
der Duft kam
während ich das Hören stand, diskret dumb

 



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