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sad poem

stieg und Bernstein war der Sonnenuntergang auf dem Fluß
einmal dieser weiche Rasen
sehr gut Sie Liberale
im Hafen neuen Yorks
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
tat Sie hören überhaupt
hören Sie
hören Sie zum klingenden Meer
auf und ab geht ihn
auf und an
ich sagte
lassen Sie mich durch die Straße langsam bewegen


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