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son poem

es gab drei in der Wiese durch den Bach
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
wer den Regen liebt
denken Sie, mein Junge, wenn ich meine Arme um Sie setze
ich liebte eine Frau
wölbte die Flut
Bonbon mit Farn und stieg
achtzig Jahre haben und mehr überschritten

 



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