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mom poem

Standplatz hier durch meine Seite
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
ich bin vom Sein bitter und träge vom Sein klug träge
wenig Park, den ich durch führe
was spiteful Wahrscheinlichkeit unawares stiehlt
ich habe eine Furcht in meinem Leben gehabt
durch die ausgedehnten schmerzende Brust der Masse
ihr Gesicht ist angemessen und glatt und fein


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