.An steinern Resten alter G'mäuer,
ruh ich sanft mein Leben aus.
An schmalen Wolken brennt ein Feuer,
das zeugt vom sterbend Sonnenhaus.
Ich blick' ins Land, seh's rot wie Feuer,
das die geh'nde Sonne malt.
Seh' Vögel ziehn ob das Gemäuer>und lausch dem Lied, das leis' ers.
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