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halloween poetry

was es die gesagten Maschinen war
und während wir gingen, wurde das Gras schwach gerührt
wir legen
er würde sogar seinen Witz haben
gaily durch die Felder tanzten wir
zum leidenschaftlichen Geliebten
Schlaf, grauer Bruder des Todes
warum dann, Muß wir? sieht
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang

 



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