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father poem

warum Sie immer der dort shivering Standplatz tun Sie
diese alte silberne SchĂĽssel von meinen
Bruder, bin ich Feuer
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
ich verachte meine Freunde mehr als Sie
zweifellos erinnere mich ich noch
ein mit Ihnen
könnten wir aber zu wissen
Tochter, thoukunst kommen zu sterben
er wird gegangen
hoch-getragenes Rennen

 



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