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christmas poetry

ich stand
BlĂĽten der Babys
die alten Songs
bleiben Sie nicht mehr
ich wuĂźte nie, daĂź die Masse soviel Gold hatte
gegangen die drei, jene seltenen Schwestern
welches ich erwähnen möchte
in den Wolke-grauen Morgen
aber ich kann nicht Sie jetzt lesen

 



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