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suicide poem

wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
aus dem tiefen heraus und die Dunkelheit
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
die langen resounding Marmorflure
erinnern sich Sie
der Himmel
wölbte die Flut
ich erwarte Sie
unter meinem Fenster in einer Stadtstraße
ich liebe meine Stunde des Winds und des Lichtes
ich weiß nicht wo

 



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