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grandma poem

an der Dämmerung sagte er
und noch gingen sie an
blau-schwarze nubian zupfende Orangen
allein
welches hält
Sonne trat unten von seinem goldenen Throne
neben einem geschlagenen Feld
desolate und einsam
diese alte silberne SchĂĽssel von meinen
ich war eine Göttin, ere der Marmor mich fand

 



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