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sorry poem

geben Sie mir Hunger
steigender Mond hat die Sterne versteckt
tun Sie die Jungen und Mädchen gehen noch
um Mitternacht
drehen Sie nicht Ihren Kopf
für diese weißen Arme über meinen Ansatz
an der Dämmerung sagte er
alter Wein zum Trinken
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
Dame, Ihr Herz hat an Staub gewendet
Gott
Roses und Gold

 



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