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family poetry

drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
wer den Wind nennen wird
aller Tag zum Aufpassen der blauen Welle sich zu kräuseln und zu brechen
als Meer-Winde unsere Solitudes durchbohrten
das Licht zurückgenommen
ein Fliegenwort von hier und dort
wie Adler auf hoher Höhe
glänzt das letzte Alter, das folgende mit Hoffnung wird gesehen

 



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