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thank you poem

Schlaf süß in Ihren humble Gräbern
Nacht ist dunkel und die Winterwinde
dieses ist das Arsenal
wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
seien Sie, Leben geduldig, wenn Liebe am Gatter ist
allein
wenn die Stunden des Tages numeriert werden
schöne, tragical Gesichter
erklären Sie mir nicht

 



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