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short love poem

innerhalb dieses niedrigen Grabs liegt ein conqueror
hören Sie den Regen?
mit den meek, braunen Augen
haben wir keine Schande?
der Regen sein rüber und die leuchtende Luft
sie muß zurück gehen, sagte sie
machen Sie sich nicht um das unsichtbare Sorgen
irgendwo las ich eine merkwürdige, alte, rostige Geschichte

 



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