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type of poem

diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
zu, was eine Frau sie geliebt vergleicht
hören Sie zum klingenden Meer
Sonne und Wind und Schlag von Meer
Roses und Gold
unten gekommen an der Dämmerung von den windless Hügeln
ich verachte meine Freunde mehr als Sie
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
unsere angenehmen Momente fliegen
an der Dämmerung sagte er

 



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