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vor tausend leisen Jahren
ich bin alt und blind
mit den meek, braunen Augen
Sonne und Wind und Schlag von Meer
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
die auf das Oberseite sagen, daß sie Sie, Masse kennen -- sie sind Lügner
liebe Frau
ich bilde meinen Abschirmrahmen, aber niemand weiß

 



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