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1912

An Arno Holz

Kurt Tucholsky

Derweil so summbt den Feldrain lang der Bihngens leiser Sommer-Sang! Horch drümb wahs mein Staub dir spricht: So vihl Gold hat Ophir nicht

alhs in ihrem Munde die flüchtige Secunde. O Adame o Eve Vita somnium breve!

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An Arno Holz · Kurt Tucholsky · Poetry Cove