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urdu poetry

vor er war viele und viel einem Jahr
ich bot sie aller Abschied
ich brenne keinen Duft
es ist zutreffend, daß Sie sagen, daß die Götter mehr Gebrauch zu Ihnen als Feen sind
und während wir gingen, wurde das Gras schwach gerührt
bleiben Sie nicht mehr
alle werfen die Jahre nieder
wenn der Wind gegen uns in der Dunkelheit arbeitet
die Bögen der roten Brücke

 



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