.er achte Mond schleppt sich gemächlich in das satte Korn des Hinterlands,
wo Weiler sich an Hügel schmiegen und bei jungen Trauben
Wegweiser teilnahmslos verwittern und an blinden Enden alter StraÃen bei
durstigen Bächen morsche Mühlen stumm verstauben
Bei Galgenhainen auf den Flure.
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