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daughter poem

ruhig mit reverance, im Awe
hatten er und i aber getroffen
schöne, tragical Gesichter
bis zu ihrem Raumfenster
erklären Sie mir
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
voll von den Rissen
es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand
in allen Sachen gesprochen nicht von
als weiĂźe Kerze
ich liege am Tabellenberg

 



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