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i miss you poem

mit den meek, braunen Augen
ich bete nicht für Frieden
häufig denke ich an die schöne Stadt
ich singe Ihnen
dieses ist das Arsenal
fällt hier kein Licht
in allen Sachen gesprochen nicht von
lassen Sie uns unsere niedrigeren Neigungen ausdrücken
ein Blick ist aber ein Strahl
ich gehe hinunter die Gartenwege

 



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