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grandmother poem

ich bin alt und blind
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
in den Hallen des Schlafes wandered Sie vorbei
rückwärts drehen Sie sich rückwärts
ich weiß nicht wo
was spiteful Wahrscheinlichkeit unawares stiehlt
der Duft kam
die Berge sind sie leise Völker
dunkelstes, merkwürdigstes Geheimnis
hören Sie den Regen?
entlang einem River-side
die Wiese kroch
ich schleuderte meine Seele zur Luft wie einem Falkefliegen
hören Sie

 



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