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ich habe die Welt geworfen
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
wenn die Stunden des Tages numeriert werden
Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
Einfachheit
machen Sie sich nicht Sorgen, daß er rüber sein
schöne, tragical Gesichter
haben Sie gesehenes Gehen durch das Dorf
bleiben Sie nicht mehr
aller Tag zum Aufpassen der blauen Welle sich zu kräuseln und zu brechen

 



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