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lyric poem

Schlaf süß in Ihren humble Gräbern
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
ich stand das geöffnete Flügelfenster bereit
die Berge sind sie leise Völker
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
als Meer-Winde unsere Solitudes durchbohrten
Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert

 



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