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death poem

die Wiese kroch
Stadt, die nicht eine Stadt ist
möglicherweise
als ich am Sonnenuntergang zurückkam
rühren Sie sich
erneuern Sie den Anblick der Freude
unter dem Helm des Warriors
ich habe die stolzesten Sterne gesehen
Schlaf, grauer Bruder des Todes
und mit dem Summenvogel
ihr schönes Haar

 



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