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death poetry

schön
er würde sogar seinen Witz haben
ich hörte den Wind aller Tag
Gott
häufig denke ich an die schöne Stadt
Sie sagen, daß Sie mich lieben
der Körper kann begrenzen
als ich war, lief London ein
die Luft ist von Dämmerung und Frühling voll
wo ich sollen Sie, finden Sie Sie
ich kann nicht Ihnen jetzt erklären
Tag ist erfolgt

 



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