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death poem

ein kleiner Pfirsich im Obstgarten wuchs
Sonne und Wind und Schlag von Meer
meine Seele geht in den gorgeous Sachen plattiert
Sie sind mein Begleiter
ich sah mit geöffneten Augen
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
erklären Sie mir nicht
die Berge sind sie leise Völker
erinnern sich Sie

 



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