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christmas poetry

durch die ausgedehnten schmerzende Brust der Masse
gegangen die drei, jene seltenen Schwestern
ich hatte einen Traum und ich wachte mit ihm auf
geben Sie mir Hunger
die Sonne ist oben
truely
was spiteful Wahrscheinlichkeit unawares stiehlt
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
hören Sie den Regen?

 



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