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black poetry

gestern Abend legte der Vollmond ein Tuch von Weiß
noch dreizehn Jahre
ist häufig er nicht so?
ich bin eine Frau
gerade als meine Finger auf diesen Schlüsseln
ich sehe allen menschlichen Esprit
ihr schönes Haar
der Duft kam
es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau

 



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