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thanksgiving poem

in den Hallen des Schlafes wandered Sie vorbei
aber alas, gerade Träume
möglicherweise
ich brenne keinen Duft
als ich am Sonnenuntergang zurückkam
häufig denke ich an die schöne Stadt
alle jene Schätze, die liegen
grünes Nachmittagsserene und hell

 



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