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contemporary poetry

ich bin der Wind, der wavers
die Bögen der roten Brücke
lassen Sie nicht hören
Schlaf süß in Ihren humble Gräbern
glooms der Lebeneichen
Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
unter dem Helm des Warriors
lassen Sie uns unsere niedrigeren Neigungen ausdrücken
ein Nebel fuhr unten
wie ich innen roofed liege, innen aussortiert
wer den Wind nennen wird

 



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