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religious poem

warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
Töchter der Zeit
gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums
ich schleuderte meine Seele zur Luft wie einem Falkefliegen
durch die rude Brücke
Einfachheit
sie fragen mich, wo ich gewesen bin
ich mag es
ich verachte meine Freunde mehr als Sie

 



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