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son poem

Melancholie, Blau war sie
die auf das Oberseite sagen, daß sie Sie, Masse kennen -- sie sind Lügner
wenig Gatter wurde schließlich erreicht
ich bin eine Frau
wir, die standen
meine zutreffende Liebe von ihrem Kissen stieg
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
das Kind, das weg Blatt nach Blatt warf
Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
nehmen Sie meine Bracelets
er warfen einen Stein, Sie warfen einen Stein
die Dämmerung war apfelgrün

 



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