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memorial poem

als ich am Sonnenuntergang zurückkam
ich denke sie gerades herrliches
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
es ist zutreffend, daß Sie sagen, daß die Götter mehr Gebrauch zu Ihnen als Feen sind
ich bin vom Sein bitter und träge vom Sein klug träge
ich schleuderte meine Seele zur Luft wie einem Falkefliegen
Kerzen, die seitlich in den Tomatedosen stürzen

 



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