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anniversary poetry

ich gehe meine Weise complacently
jenseits schauen
erinnern sich Sie
Geräusche, die sich bemühen heftig zu zerreißen
ein Sturm fährt auf den Tide
die Berge sind sie leise Völker
Schlaf, grauer Bruder des Todes
sie muß zurück gehen, sagte sie
drehen Sie mich unten durch die Wiese
ich stand


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