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sad love poem

ich bin eine Frau
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
lieben Sie mich schließlich oder, wenn Sie nicht werden
es gibt kein Entweichen durch den Fluß
von unseren versteckten Plätzen
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
ich starrte den prachtvollen Himmel an
ein Blick ist aber ein Strahl
ich sagte

 



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