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urdu poetry

Gedanken durch meinen Kopf
Tochter, thoukunst kommen zu sterben
diese sind
im Hafen neuen Yorks
Gott
Glasbläser der Zeit
sie hörte die Kinder, in der Sonne zu spielen
geheimnisvolle Nacht
die auf das Oberseite sagen, daß sie Sie, Masse kennen -- sie sind Lügner
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken

 



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