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mother poem

unter dem Helm des Warriors
mittlere Vergnügen und Paläste, obwohl wir durchstreifen können
für war mich ein gaunt, ernstes Ratsmitglied
Melancholie, Blau war sie
Stern-Staub und vaporous Licht
Bewegung Ihres Körpers ist wie Musik
der Schnee whispers über mich
gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums
Gedanken durch meinen Kopf


 



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