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suicide poem

die langen resounding Marmorflure
könnten wir aber zu wissen
Glück
zum leidenschaftlichen Geliebten
von unseren versteckten Plätzen
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
pharaoh, König von Land Ägyptens
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
hohe Wände und sehr groß
oben auslösen, unten fallend
wickeln Sie die Masse im bewölkten Wetter auf

 



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