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christmas poem

wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
innerhalb dieses niedrigen Grabs liegt ein conqueror
steigender Mond hat die Sterne versteckt
Bonbon mit Farn und stieg
meine sorge, wenn sie hier mit mir ist
ich sah ihn einmal vorher
in den mournful Zahlen
das Kind, das weg Blatt nach Blatt warf
warum Sie immer der dort shivering Standplatz tun Sie

 



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