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sorry poem

sehen Sie, sie zurückgehen
ich wußte nie, daß die Masse soviel Gold hatte
von unseren versteckten Plätzen
gegangen die drei, jene seltenen Schwestern
Sie sind schön und verblassen
die kleinen weißen Gebete
dieses ist der Song von Jugend
möglicherweise
ich verachte meine Freunde mehr als Sie
ihr schönes Haar
ein Nebel fuhr unten

 



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