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funeral poem

ein Fliegenwort von hier und dort
ich sah die erste Birne
ich wußte nie, daß die Masse soviel Gold hatte
die Dämmerung war apfelgrün
gegangen die drei, jene seltenen Schwestern
den brennenden Gedanken kleiden
ich liebe die alten melodious Lagen
Moonlight tief und zart
wenig Park, den ich durch führe

 



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