.Am Himmel zieht der Greis aus Stein
Vergangener Schnee der alten StraÃen erleuchtet sein Gesicht
Die uns abgewandte, blinde Seite unseres bleichen Herrn
Klebt an kalten Fenstern
Das Fest der fahrlässig Besinnungslosen wütet in der Stadt - die Sterne schweigen
Abseits des Treibens t.
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