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lost love poem

gestern Abend legte der Vollmond ein Tuch von Weiß
ich brenne keinen Duft
gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums
melancholische Tage sind gekommen
die Luft ist von Dämmerung und Frühling voll
niedrig! ' tis ein Galanacht
Sie sind mein Begleiter


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