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epic poetry

es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
sehen Sie, von dieser Fälschung von ihm
vor langer Zeit im jungen Moonlight
diese Herzen wurden von den menschlichen Freuden und Obacht gesponnen
glooms der Lebeneichen
drehen Sie mich unten durch die Wiese
die auf das Oberseite sagen, daß sie Sie, Masse kennen -- sie sind Lügner
Blüten der Babys
ich liege am Tabellenberg


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