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kid poem

weich weinend
und während wir gingen, wurde das Gras schwach gerührt
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
truely
drehen Sie mich unten durch die Wiese
innerhalb dieses niedrigen Grabs liegt ein conqueror
jetzt, während meine Lippen leben
sie sprengte fierce Wein
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
wir legen

 



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