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romantic poem

es gibt keine Menge, gleichwohl aufgepaßt und geneigt
Glück
was wir jetzt tut
Schatten legen entlang broadway
wir waren nicht viele
wie wild, wie Hexe-wie sonderbares, das das Leben sein sollte
das kleine mitfühlende, getragen, Lachengesichter
gestiegen von den Toten
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
es gibt kein Entweichen durch den Fluß

 



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