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math poem

meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
noch dreizehn Jahre
aller Tag zum Aufpassen der blauen Welle sich zu kräuseln und zu brechen
eins nach dem anderen wie verläßt von einem Baum
ein süß ernster Gedanke
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen

 



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