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teacher poem

hören Sie den Regen?
wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
von unseren versteckten Plätzen
in die Dunkelheit und Frieden meinem abschließenden Betts
ich weiß nicht wo
von der Sonne noch Sterne
truely
wenn ich zurück zu Masse gehe
gegangen vor uns
gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums
das traurigste des Jahres
erinnern sich Sie

 



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