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christmas poem

es gibt keine Menge, gleichwohl aufgepaßt und geneigt
gerade als meine Finger auf diesen Schlüsseln
alle innen und alle ohne mich
sie muß zurück gehen, sagte sie
Nacht war schwarz und drear
in der LageSEIN, jede Seite jeder Frage zu sehen
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen

 



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