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mother poem

was es die gesagten Maschinen war
unter den Rauch und Nebel eines Dezembernachmittages
Farbtöne der Nacht fielen schnell
Glück
Gedanken durch meinen Kopf
sie konnte ihn im früheren Frühling gekannt haben
oben auslösen, unten fallend
seien Sie in mir als die ewigen Stimmungen
ich denke sie gerades herrliches

 



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