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poetry poem

wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
winged Schatten, die vorbei fegen
sehen Sie, sie zurückgehen
ich kann nicht seinem greatness immer glauben
und mein Name ist truthful
rühren Sie sich
dunkelstes, merkwürdigstes Geheimnis
die Luft ist von Dämmerung und Frühling voll
ich bot sie aller Abschied

 



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