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death poetry

sehr gut Sie Liberale
wenn ich zurück zu Masse gehe
so gefallen
achtzig Jahre haben und mehr überschritten
ich hatte einen Traum und ich wachte mit ihm auf
Freund, dessen Lächeln gekommen ist zu sein
wer den Wind nennen wird
Sitzen in seinem Schalthebel, der Ihren Tee wartet

 



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