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sad death poem

geben Sie mich
wie er wer Geist in der Flamme des Mittages
Sitzen in seinem Schalthebel, der Ihren Tee wartet
gaily durch die Felder tanzten wir
ein süß ernster Gedanke
ich stehe im kalten grauen Wetter
die Dämmerung war apfelgrün
unten gekommen an der Dämmerung von den windless Hügeln
sie kennt eine preiswerte Freigabe
erinnern sich Sie

 



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