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birthday poem

Gott
die Masse hält etwas Erschütterungsgehen
Sonne trat unten von seinem goldenen Throne
gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums
drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
ich liebte eine Frau
herauf von den Süden am Bruch des Tages
eins nach dem anderen wie verläßt von einem Baum

 



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