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mother poem

Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
während ich das Hören stand, diskret dumb
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
Wille schimmern Sie auf dem Meer?
ein mit Ihnen
vor drei Jahren heute
ich sah die erste Birne
voll von den Rissen
ruhig mit reverance, im Awe
in einem alten Raum beleuchtete weich

 



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