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friendship poem

diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
ein dünner grauer Schatten auf dem Rand des Gedankens
diese sind
schreckliche Wahrheiten diese sind
es gibt ein Land voll des Weins
auf und an
wickeln Sie die Masse im bewölkten Wetter auf
das endlose, dumme merriment der Sterne
achtzig Jahre haben und mehr überschritten


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