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mom poem

wer den Wind nennen wird
königliches Fest war erfolgt
einige windigere Tage
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
Gott
die Masse hält etwas Erschütterungsgehen
gaily durch die Felder tanzten wir
gute Frau
jetzt, während meine Lippen leben
was es die gesagten Maschinen war
ich starrte den prachtvollen Himmel an

 



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