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poem for pastors

die einzelne zusammengeprgessene angehobene Faust und bereiten vor
holen Sie mir weichen Song
zu einigem die fetten Götter
unten gekommen an der Dämmerung von den windless Hügeln
der Geruch von stieg so falsch, die zutreffenden Dornen so
alter Wein zum Trinken

 



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