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love poems

es war der Herbst des Jahres
Frau vermißte viel, wie Sie zu mir benennen, Anruf zu mir
Melancholie, Blau war sie
vor tausend leisen Jahren
schöne, tragical Gesichter
entlang den Bänken
ich war eine Göttin, ere der Marmor mich fand
wer der Läufer in den Himmeln ist

 



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