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funeral poem

über dem Fluß winken sie zu mir zu
hängen Sie keinen Wreath
die Masse hält etwas Erschütterungsgehen
Material des Mondes
ich bin eine Frau
vor dem ernsten Bronzeheiligen
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
ich habe die stolzesten Sterne gesehen
plötzlich aus den dunklen und belaubten Weisen heraus
ich wundere mich, wo Sie leben
Stern-Staub und vaporous Licht
er kam mich durch die Hand nehmen
und noch gingen sie an
denken Sie, mein Junge, wenn ich meine Arme um Sie setze

 



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