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urdu poetry

ein Fliegenwort von hier und dort
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
das Emporheben, als der Wind brannte durch
wir waren nicht viele
als ich war, lief London ein
wer den Wind nennen wird
was es die gesagten Maschinen war
pharaoh, König von Land Ägyptens

 



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