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erotic poetry

vor drei Jahren heute
unter den Bergen wandered ich
ich sehe allen menschlichen Esprit
folglich kann ich nicht
ich weiß, was Sie sagen werden
ich kann nicht seinem greatness immer glauben
wer den Wind nennen wird
sind Sie wach?
Dame, Ihr Herz hat an Staub gewendet
wie wie die Sterne dieses Weiß ist, namenlose Gesichter
letzter Mitternacht

 



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