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die Masse hält etwas Erschütterungsgehen
neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins
ich liebe die alten melodious Lagen
möglicherweise ist es gleichgültig, das Sie starben
lassen Sie das reizende Wortunsaid
Vögel gegen den Aprilwind
Sonne und Wind und Schlag von Meer
jetzt, während meine Lippen leben
einmal dieser weiche Rasen
der Blitz blitzte und hob an
hören Sie

 



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