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haiku poem

er wird gegangen
jetzt, während meine Lippen leben
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums
ich bin fevered
sie sprengte fierce Wein
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
lassen Sie uns unsere niedrigeren Neigungen ausdrücken
babylon -- wo ich gehe zu träumen

 



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