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short love poem

machen Sie sich nicht Sorgen, daß er rüber sein
Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert
unter den Bergen wandered ich
lassen Sie uns Pity die, denen besser seien Sie weg von, als wir sind
folglich kann ich nicht
ich stand
schöne, tragical Gesichter
oben auslösen, unten fallend
der Himmel

 



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