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halloween poetry

ich hörte den Wind aller Tag
schöne, tragical Gesichter
innerhalb dieses niedrigen Grabs liegt ein conqueror
die Berge sind sie leise Völker
fällt hier kein Licht
sie konnte ihn im früheren Frühling gekannt haben
drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
sehen Sie, sie zurückgehen

 



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