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broken heart poem

Tage endeared zu jedem MUSE
könnten wir aber zu wissen
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
unter meinem Fenster in einer StadtstraĂźe
die hypocritic Tage
Stadt, die nicht eine Stadt ist
sie konnte ihn im frĂĽheren FrĂĽhling gekannt haben
Nacht ist dunkel und die Winterwinde
Musik I hörte mit Ihnen war mehr als Musik

 



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