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grandmother poem

hören Sie den Regen?
oben auslösen, unten fallend
glooms der Lebeneichen
unter dem Helm des Warriors
innerhalb dieses niedrigen Grabs liegt ein conqueror
Schlaf süß in Ihren humble Gräbern
von Song und Traum für überhaupt gegangen
ich liebe meine Stunde des Winds und des Lichtes
das Emporheben, als der Wind brannte durch
ich habe das Rennen gewonnen

 



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