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death poem

die Berge sind sie leise Völker
lassen Sie uns unsere niedrigeren Neigungen ausdrücken
die Dämmerung war apfelgrün
unter dem Helm des Warriors
niedrig! ' tis ein Galanacht
über dem Fluß winken sie zu mir zu
ich sterbe
fällt hier kein Licht
erinnern sich Sie
zwischen den musing Sonnenuntergang und die Dunkelheit
Töchter der Zeit


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