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funeral poem

winged Schatten, die vorbei fegen
neben einem geschlagenen Feld
es gibt keine Menge, gleichwohl aufgepaßt und geneigt
in die Dunkelheit und Frieden meinem abschließenden Betts
wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
als ich ein Junge an der Hochschule war
gerade jetzt
ein Blick ist aber ein Strahl

 



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