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pumpkin poem

obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
ich bete nicht für Frieden
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
der Blitz blitzte und hob an
Farbtöne der Nacht fielen schnell
auf und ab geht ihn
wir, die standen
glänzt das letzte Alter, das folgende mit Hoffnung wird gesehen


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