Schwarzer See, schwarzes Boot, zwei schwarz, Schneidenpapier Leute. Wohin gehen die schwarzen Bume dieses Getrnk hier? Ihre Schatten mssen Kanada bedecken.
Ein wenig Licht filtert von den Wasserblumen. Ihre Bltter wnschen uns nicht, um sich zu beeilen: Sie sind rund und flach und vom dunklen Rat voll.
Kalte Welten rtteln vom Ruder. Der Geist von Schwrzungsgrad ist in uns, es ist in den Fischen. Ein Baumstumpf hebt einen Valedictory, Lattenhand an;
Sterne ffnen sich unter den Lilien. Werden Sie nicht durch solche ausdruckslose Sirenen blind gemacht? Dieses ist die Ruhe der verblfften Seelen.
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