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mom poem

Melancholie, Blau war sie
gegangen vor uns
Sonne und Wind und Schlag von Meer
niedrig! ' tis ein Galanacht
ich liebte eine Frau
der Schnee whispers über mich
als ich ein Junge an der Hochschule war
sehen Sie das vorläufige
es gibt kein Entweichen durch den Fluß
über dem Fluß auf dem Hügel
ich kann nicht seinem greatness immer glauben

 



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