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christmas poem

ich gehe hinunter die Gartenwege
eine Feder des Stahls
ich ging auf und ab die Straßen
Sitzen in seinem Schalthebel, der Ihren Tee wartet
in allen Sachen gesprochen nicht von
aus mir heraus unwürdig und unbekannt
aus dem tiefen heraus und die Dunkelheit
alter Wein zum Trinken
im Hafen neuen Yorks
für dann außen

 



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