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death poem

einmal dieser weiche Rasen
ich gehe meine Weise complacently
ein Blick ist aber ein Strahl
die Sonne ist oben
ich stand
ich gehe hinunter die Gartenwege
ich sah mit geöffneten Augen
liebe Frau
es ist zutreffend, daß Sie sagen, daß die Götter mehr Gebrauch zu Ihnen als Feen sind
einfach sprechend
die langen resounding Marmorflure

 



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