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death poem

kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
weich weinend
dieses ist der Song von Jugend
wo ich sollen Sie, finden Sie Sie
hoch-getragenes Rennen
und so geht sie
Wille schimmern Sie auf dem Meer?
ich wundere mich, wo Sie leben
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau

 



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