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funny poem

der Geruch von stieg so falsch, die zutreffenden Dornen so
Dame, Ihr Herz hat an Staub gewendet
wickeln Sie die Masse im bewölkten Wetter auf
noch dreizehn Jahre
sind sie traurig, die nicht Liebe kennen
Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert
wie wild, wie Hexe-wie sonderbares, das das Leben sein sollte
in den Wolke-grauen Morgen
die Luft ist wie ein Schmetterling
Bruder, bin ich Feuer


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