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mom poem

drehen Sie nicht Ihren Kopf
Gott
in können Sie
ich bete nicht für Frieden
Nacht war schwarz und drear
ich habe die Welt geworfen
wenn Freiheit von ihrer Gebirgshöhe
weich weinend
es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
sind sie traurig, die nicht Liebe kennen

 



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