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teen poem

holen Sie mir weichen Song
das endlose, dumme merriment der Sterne
ich fülle diese Schale
Sie sind frei
mit den meek, braunen Augen
ich liege am Tabellenberg
es gab drei in der Wiese durch den Bach
die Masse hält etwas Erschütterungsgehen
schöne, tragical Gesichter
von unseren versteckten Plätzen


 



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