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daughter poem

melancholische Tage sind gekommen
geben Sie mich
Dame, Ihr Herz hat an Staub gewendet
für dann außen
alle innen und alle ohne mich
der Blitz blitzte und hob an
als ich in Ihre Augen schaute
ich gehe hinunter die Gartenwege
neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins
ich habe daß eine bestimmte Prinzessin gehört

 



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