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grandma poem

Stern-Staub und vaporous Licht
und so geht sie
gaily durch die Felder tanzten wir
die kleinen weißen Gebete
Material des Mondes
fällt hier kein Licht
es gibt Gewinne für alle unsere Verluste
es gibt ein Land voll des Weins
dieses Jahr
ich wundere mich, wo Sie leben
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
herauf von die Wiesen reich mit Mais


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