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er warfen einen Stein, Sie warfen einen Stein
über ihnen alle, unten schauend
hoch-getragenes Rennen
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
warum dann, Muß wir? sieht
als Meer-Winde unsere Solitudes durchbohrten
die langen resounding Marmorflure
ein Sturm fährt auf den Tide

 



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