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autumn poem

wenig Gatter wurde schließlich erreicht
als weiße Kerze
ein Himmel, der nie Sonne, Mond oder Sterne gekannt hat
sehen Sie, daß ich Ihnen mich gebe
unter dem Helm des Warriors
Roses und Gold
aller Tag zum Aufpassen der blauen Welle sich zu kräuseln und zu brechen

 



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