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baby poem

häufig denke ich an die schöne Stadt
von unseren versteckten Plätzen
Gott
sind Sie wach?
schöne, tragical Gesichter
er wird gegangen
innerhalb meiner Hand halte ich
wickeln Sie die Masse im bewölkten Wetter auf
Tag ist erfolgt
Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
dieser merkwürdige Begleiter kam auf shuffling Füße

 



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