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urdu poetry

wir, die standen
Tochter, thoukunst kommen zu sterben
dort durch das Fenster im alten Haus
ich stand
bis zu ihrem Raumfenster
vor drei Jahren heute
hohe Wände und sehr groß
wölbte die Flut
ich liebe meine Stunde des Winds und des Lichtes
über dem Fluß auf dem Hügel
Material des Mondes
ich muß sagen gute Nacht
hatten er und i aber getroffen


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