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poetry poem

neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins
die Dichter sagen
vor langer Zeit im jungen Moonlight
aber ich kann nicht Sie jetzt lesen
niedrig! ' tis ein Galanacht
unter dem Helm des Warriors
ich hörte den Wind aller Tag
herrlich und schrecklich Ihre Liebe
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins
ich bin alt und blind

 



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