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christmas poetry

behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
Massentravails
ich stehe im kalten grauen Wetter
auf und an
unter den Bergen wandered ich
fällt hier kein Licht
haben Sie gesehenes Gehen durch das Dorf
hatten er und i aber getroffen
als Meer-Winde unsere Solitudes durchbohrten
ich bin der Wind, der wavers

 



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