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sad death poem

ein Leben auf der Ozeanwelle
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
Sie sind mein Begleiter
zwei Reihen der Kohlpflanzen
aller Tag zum Aufpassen der blauen Welle sich zu kräuseln und zu brechen
rückwärts drehen Sie sich rückwärts

 



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