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sympathy poem

ich bete nicht für Frieden
warum dann, Muß wir? sieht
einmal dieser weiche Rasen
die hypocritic Tage
Himmel, die sie waren, ashen und nüchtern
Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
es gab eine Zeit in den ehemaligen Jahren
gaily durch die Felder tanzten wir
unter dem Helm des Warriors
meine Seele geht in den gorgeous Sachen plattiert

 



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