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christian poem

wenig Park, den ich durch führe
gerade jetzt
lassen Sie mich durch die Straße langsam bewegen
glooms der Lebeneichen
meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld
babylon -- wo ich gehe zu träumen
wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
vor dem ernsten Bronzeheiligen
noch schaukelt ihr Grau Aufsatz über das Meer
ich sah die Wolken unter den Hügeln

 



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