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erotic poetry

der Duft kam
vor drei Jahren heute
unnachgiebige Vergangenheit des thou
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
das endlose, dumme merriment der Sterne
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
Sitzen in seinem Schalthebel, der Ihren Tee wartet

 



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