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funeral poem

wenn die Stunden des Tages numeriert werden
traurig sprechend
ich verachte meine Freunde mehr als Sie
aus mir heraus unwürdig und unbekannt
von Fußboden zu Decke
wenig Park, den ich durch führe
mit Freude und Wunder
voll von den Rissen
sind Sie wach?
hören Sie zum klingenden Meer
Schriftsatz auf einer Fliegennacht

 



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