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angel poem

meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld
er erklärt von den guten alten Zeiten
entlang den Bänken
sehen Sie, sie zurückgehen
ich liebte eine Frau
sie können von der Liebe in einem Häuschen sprechen
sie fragen mich, wo ich gewesen bin
bewiesen im Schimmer in Ihren Augen
Himmel, die sie waren, ashen und nüchtern
wölbte die Flut

 



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