egon schiele

Now I see the black town again, which has always remained the same,
all the back-parlour folk are walking about as they always did,
—the poor people—
so poor, the rustle-red autumn leafage smells like them.
But how good autumn is in all this windwinterland!
{ Egon Schiele, Ich ewiges Kind (I, Eternal Child). Gedichte, ViennaMunich (2) 1985. p. 22 }

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