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son poem

lassen Sie hören
Material des Mondes
Blüten der Babys
ich bin vom Sein bitter und träge vom Sein klug träge
was es die gesagten Maschinen war
durch die ausgedehnten schmerzende Brust der Masse
ich habe eine Furcht in meinem Leben gehabt
ich kann nicht Ihnen jetzt erklären
Bruder, bin ich Feuer
erklären Sie mir weniger oder erklären Sie mir mehr

 



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