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baby poem

in Ihren Armen war ruhige Freude
allein
wenn ich gekonnt hatte, Enge ein Gefängnis Liebe ist
wenn der Schleier von den Augen angehoben wird
jenseits schauen
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
in den mournful Zahlen
hatten er und i aber getroffen

 



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