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happy birthday poem

wir waren nicht viele
desolate und einsam
blau-schwarze nubian zupfende Orangen
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
Farbtöne der Nacht fielen schnell
unter dusky Lorbeerblatt
ich hörte den Wind aller Tag
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er

 



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