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narrative poetry

ich sehe einen Stern heute abend
Sonne trat unten von seinem goldenen Throne
traurige Rolle der gedämpften Trommel hat Schlag
ich bilde meinen Abschirmrahmen, aber niemand weiß
im Hafen neuen Yorks
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
ich sah die erste Birne
rühren Sie sich

 



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