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prose poetry

ich weiß nicht wo
ihr Gesicht ist angemessen und glatt und fein
schwach-weak-winged Song
wie wild, wie Hexe-wie sonderbares, das das Leben sein sollte
gelebt durch den River-side
ich bin vom Sein bitter und träge vom Sein klug träge
seien Sie nicht falsch
mit dem Sonnenuntergang
aber alas, gerade Träume
über dem Fluß auf dem Hügel

 



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