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concrete poetry

wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
ich liebe meine Stunde des Winds und des Lichtes
Kerzen, die seitlich in den Tomatedosen stürzen
lassen Sie uns errichten
wer der Läufer in den Himmeln ist
ich mag es
als ich ein Junge an der Hochschule war
unter dusky Lorbeerblatt

 



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