.Grau.
Und alt.
Mein trockenes Auge
Erblickt trüb' und kalt
Das Loch in der Mauer,
Eine Pforte zum Licht:
Aus dunklen Gedanken,
Erweckt's mich...
... Nicht?
Strahlen der Jugend auf ledrige Hände,
Aus meinen 4 werden schnell 5 feuchte Wände:
Der Spal.
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