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sad poem

sie konnte ihn im früheren Frühling gekannt haben
schreckliche Wahrheiten diese sind
lassen Sie hören
alter Wein zum Trinken
Tochter, thoukunst kommen zu sterben
ich sehe einen Stern heute abend
Bruder, bin ich Feuer
zweifellos erinnere mich ich noch
ihr schönes Haar
als Meer-Winde unsere Solitudes durchbohrten

 



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