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folglich kann ich nicht
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
als Meer-Winde unsere Solitudes durchbohrten
glänzt das letzte Alter, das folgende mit Hoffnung wird gesehen
im Hafen neuen Yorks
steigender Mond hat die Sterne versteckt
es gab eine Zeit in den ehemaligen Jahren
nun da ich zu Ihnen abgekühlt bin
sie sagte
ein süß ernster Gedanke
ihr schönes Haar

 



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