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friend poem

Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
auf und ab geht ihn
und während wir gingen, wurde das Gras schwach gerührt
neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins
bleiben Sie nicht mehr
Geräusche, die sich bemühen heftig zu zerreißen
neben einem geschlagenen Feld
ein Dichter, nachdem den Zaum seine Zunge entfernt habend

 



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