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child poetry

obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
es gibt kein Entweichen durch den Fluß
hoch-getragenes Rennen
rühren Sie sich
unter einem ausgebreiteten Kastaniebaum
gestiegen von den Toten
ich hörte den Wind aller Tag
drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
die Sterne fielen vom Himmel
Himmel, die sie waren, ashen und nüchtern


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