roses walk on porcelain streets 
at the edge of the fairy-tale the night knits roses 
the tangle of storks fruits pharaohs harps is unraveled. 
death lays its chattering wreath beneath the root of emptiness. 
the storks chatter on the chimneys. 
the night is a stuffed fairy tale. 
the roses walk on porcelain streets and from the tangle of their years knit one 
star after another. 
a fruit sleeps amid stars. 
the empty lands stuffed years laughing trunks dance. 
the storks eat pharaohs. 
roses grow out of the chimneys. 
death devours one year after another, 
the pharaohs eat storks. 
between fruits a star sleeps, sometimes it laughs softly in its sleep like a porce 
lain harp. 
the chattering fairy-tales knitting streets packing storks dance. 
the growing chimneys devouring harps porcelain wreaths dance, 
the roots of the pharaohs are made out of roses. 
the storks pack their chimneys into their trunks and fly to the land of the 
meudon 1930 from “muscheln und schirme” (seashells and umbrellas)

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