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war sie nicht für diesen einzigartigen Geruch
drehen Sie mich unten durch die Wiese
Hinausschieben, vainly kämpfend
traurig sprechend
unter dusky Lorbeerblatt
Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
ich bin vom Sein bitter und träge vom Sein klug träge

 



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