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thank you poem

alter Wein zum Trinken
von der Sonne noch Sterne
ich muß sagen gute Nacht
Frau vermißte viel, wie Sie zu mir benennen, Anruf zu mir
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
ein Sturm fährt auf den Tide
achtzig Jahre haben und mehr überschritten
in den Hallen des Schlafes wandered Sie vorbei
wie das Glätten fällt
Sie sind frei
bleiben Sie nicht mehr


 



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