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sad death poem

sie fragen mich, wo ich gewesen bin
ein Dichter, nachdem den Zaum seine Zunge entfernt habend
Hinausschieben, vainly kämpfend
mit Freude und Wunder
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
im Hafen neuen Yorks
was es die gesagten Maschinen war
haben wir keine Schande?

 



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