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thank you poem

seien Sie nicht falsch
unter den Bergen wandered ich
gegen die grĂĽne Flamme des WeiĂźdorn-Baums
meine ganze Liebe fĂĽr meinen Bonbon
hohe Wände und sehr groß
wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
unter dem Erntemond
unter dusky Lorbeerblatt
vor langer Zeit im jungen Moonlight
wie ich innen roofed liege, innen aussortiert

 



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