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autumn poem

die Sonne ist oben
alle werfen die Jahre nieder
entlang den Bänken
wölbte die Flut
was wir jetzt tut
jenseits schauen
ich gehe hinunter die Gartenwege
nehmen Sie meine Bracelets
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
ich weiß, was Sie sagen werden
da ich der Richtung des Todes geglaubt habe


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