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romantic love poem

diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
ihr Gesicht ist angemessen und glatt und fein
die Sonne ist oben
ich liebe meine Stunde des Winds und des Lichtes
denken Sie, mein Junge, wenn ich meine Arme um Sie setze
meine Mutter unterrichtete mich daß jede Nacht
die Luft ist wie ein Schmetterling
hören Sie zum klingenden Meer

 



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