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death poem

Sitzen in seinem Schalthebel, der Ihren Tee wartet
Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
Bruder, bin ich Feuer
innerhalb dieses niedrigen Grabs liegt ein conqueror
ich liebe meine Stunde des Winds und des Lichtes
haben Sie gesehenes Gehen durch das Dorf
wenig Park, den ich durch führe
ich mag es
ich denke sie gerades herrliches

 



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