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math poem

nehmen Sie meine Bracelets
er war ein hohes junges oysterman
als weiße Kerze
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
aber ich kann nicht Sie jetzt lesen
voll von den Rissen
Vögel gegen den Aprilwind
ich muß sagen gute Nacht
die alten Songs
als ich war, lief London ein

 



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