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ich habe die stolzesten Sterne gesehen
lassen Sie uns Pity die, denen besser seien Sie weg von, als wir sind
Schlaf, grauer Bruder des Todes
läßt lang das Sommertageslicht glänzen
herrlich und schrecklich Ihre Liebe
geben Sie mir Hunger
Material des Mondes
der Geruch von stieg so falsch, die zutreffenden Dornen so
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins
ich halte Ihr Herz
die Schwärzung

 



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