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modern poetry

sie kennt eine preiswerte Freigabe
wickeln Sie die Masse im bewölkten Wetter auf
gestiegen von den Toten
fĂĽr war mich ein gaunt, ernstes Ratsmitglied
drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
auf und an
unter den Rauch und Nebel eines Dezembernachmittages
neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins
allein

 



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