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son poem

Tage endeared zu jedem MUSE
die Sterne fielen vom Himmel
ich erwarte Sie
ist häufig er nicht so?
unter den Rauch und Nebel eines Dezembernachmittages
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins
über dem Fluß winken sie zu mir zu
ich sterbe
und so geht sie
warum Sie immer der dort shivering Standplatz tun Sie
ich stehe im kalten grauen Wetter

 



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