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sex poem

Sonne trat unten von seinem goldenen Throne
ich kann nicht seinem greatness immer glauben
in allen Sachen gesprochen nicht von
im September
Geräusche, die sich bemühen heftig zu zerreißen
als es
liebe Frau
dieses ist das Schiff der Perle
über dem Fluß winken sie zu mir zu
es gibt Gewinne für alle unsere Verluste
seien Sie in mir als die ewigen Stimmungen

 



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