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religious poem

Sturm
Sie sind schön und verblassen
in einem alten Raum beleuchtete weich
Himmel, die sie waren, ashen und nüchtern
Ruhe als die zweiter Sommer
wie wie die Sterne dieses Weiß ist, namenlose Gesichter
vor dem ernsten Bronzeheiligen
schreckliche Wahrheiten diese sind
es gab eine Zeit in den ehemaligen Jahren

 



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