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lyric poem

das Emporheben, als der Wind brannte durch
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
Gedanken durch meinen Kopf
auf und an
machen Sie sich nicht Sorgen, daĂź er rĂĽber sein
sehen Sie, sie zurĂĽckgehen
wenn der Schleier von den Augen angehoben wird
er spricht nicht gut

 



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