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anniversary poem

nun da ich zu Ihnen abgekühlt bin
drehen Sie mich unten durch die Wiese
Sonne und Wind und Schlag von Meer
wenn der Wind gegen uns in der Dunkelheit arbeitet
hängen Sie keinen Wreath
bleiben Sie nicht mehr
es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand
er spricht nicht gut
unter dem Helm des Warriors
aus dem tiefen heraus und die Dunkelheit
Standplatz hier durch meine Seite
und breakethbrot nicht mehr

 



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