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fall poem

aber alas, gerade Träume
warum
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
der Geruch von stieg so falsch, die zutreffenden Dornen so
tun Sie die Jungen und Mädchen gehen noch
in Ihren Armen war ruhige Freude
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein

 



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