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friendship poem

sie war eine Schönheit an den Tagen
innerhalb dieses niedrigen Grabs liegt ein conqueror
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
sie kennt eine preiswerte Freigabe
der Duft kam
Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert
wie er wer Geist in der Flamme des Mittages
ich stand
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
wenn die Stunden des Tages numeriert werden

 



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