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funny poem

in den Hallen des Schlafes wandered Sie vorbei
warum
durch das Ufer durch das Meer
bewiesen im Schimmer in Ihren Augen
unter den Rauch und Nebel eines Dezembernachmittages
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen

 



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