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autumn poem

über dem Fluß winken sie zu mir zu
und während wir gingen, wurde das Gras schwach gerührt
ich sah die archangels in meinem Apfel-Baum gestern Abend
ich brenne keinen Duft
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
zu, was eine Frau sie geliebt vergleicht
grünes Nachmittagsserene und hell
sind sie traurig, die nicht Liebe kennen
die alten Songs

 



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