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birthday poem

sie sprengte fierce Wein
in den mournful Zahlen
Bruder, bin ich Feuer
ich stand das geöffnete Flügelfenster bereit
alle innen und alle ohne mich
als weiße Kerze
was ich Ihnen verdanken
was es die gesagten Maschinen war
auf und an
Himmel, die sie waren, ashen und nüchtern

 



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