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ich bete nicht für Frieden
unter den Rauch und Nebel eines Dezembernachmittages
alle jene Schätze, die liegen
sind Sie lebendig?
rückwärts drehen Sie sich rückwärts
melancholische Tage sind gekommen
gibt es jedes dort
und noch gingen sie an
entlang den Bänken
die Schwärzung stiehlt die Formen aller Königinnen

 



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