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wedding poem

wölbte die Flut
fällt hier kein Licht
sie war eine Schönheit an den Tagen
eine Meile nach
Melancholie, Blau war sie
wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
ich sah die erste Birne
ich gehe meine Weise complacently
erinnern sich Sie
sind Sie wach?

 



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