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poem for pastors

voll von den Rissen
ich hatte einen Traum und ich wachte mit ihm auf
neben einem geschlagenen Feld
und wie Sie Traum der Sitzung konnten
Nobility des Todes wieder
sie konnte ihn im früheren Frühling gekannt haben
desolate und einsam
diese sind
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
in Ihren Armen war ruhige Freude

 



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