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memorial poem

ich gehe hinunter die Gartenwege
es gibt keine Menge, gleichwohl aufgepaĂźt und geneigt
sie sprengte fierce Wein
niedrig! ' tis ein Galanacht
war sie nicht fĂĽr diesen einzigartigen Geruch
sind Sie lebendig?
wenn, voll von der warmen und eifrigen Liebe
Nacht ist dunkel und die Winterwinde
und so geht sie

 



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