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math poem

lassen Sie uns Pity die, denen besser seien Sie weg von, als wir sind
ich sah die archangels in meinem Apfel-Baum gestern Abend
wie das Glätten fällt
ich liebe meine Stunde des Winds und des Lichtes
erklären Sie mir nicht
sehen Sie, sie zurückgehen
mit den meek, braunen Augen

 



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