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sad poem

es gibt Gewinne fĂĽr alle unsere Verluste
ihr schönes Haar
in können Sie
aus dem funkelnden Meer heraus
die Bögen der roten Brücke
glooms der Lebeneichen
den brennenden Gedanken kleiden
die Schwärzung
tat Sie hören überhaupt
gerade als meine Finger auf diesen SchlĂĽsseln

 



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