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concrete poetry

sind Sie wach?
liebe Frau
ich sah, daß Sie und shivering auf den Steinen hunched
ängstlich nicht mehr, sage ich
traurige Rolle der gedämpften Trommel hat Schlag
so gefallen
dieses ist der Song von Jugend
alle jene Schätze, die liegen
ich sah die erste Birne
die kleinen weißen Gebete
meine zutreffende Liebe von ihrem Kissen stieg

 



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