.Der Himmel des Tages stirbt an off'nen Wunden
Der Abend am Meer liegt im Himmelszeltblut
Und zaghaft verschlingt bald das dämmernde Dunkel
Fast zärtlich der Sonne ertrinkende Glut
Das Klagen der Möwen benetzt zart das Rauschen
Der stetigen Wellen an einsamem Strand
Und Spure.
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