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romantic poem

ihr Gesicht ist angemessen und glatt und fein
zu einigem die fetten Götter
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
achtzig Jahre haben und mehr ĂĽberschritten
Nacht ist dunkel und die Winterwinde
ich rĂĽttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
wie wild, wie Hexe-wie sonderbares, das das Leben sein sollte
ich bin alt und blind
weich jetzt das Licht des Tages

 



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