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sad poem

letzter Mitternacht
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
drehen Sie mich unten durch die Wiese
hatten er und i aber getroffen
unten gekommen an der Dämmerung von den windless Hügeln
Material des Mondes
erklären Sie mir
ein Dichter, nachdem den Zaum seine Zunge entfernt habend
ich sah die erste Birne

 



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