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short love poem

meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
im September
die Masse hält etwas Erschütterungsgehen
ein Dichter, nachdem den Zaum seine Zunge entfernt habend
Sitzen in seinem Schalthebel, der Ihren Tee wartet
ich gehe meine Weise complacently
hören Sie den Regen?
er spricht nicht gut


 



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