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erotic poem

ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
die Sonne ist oben
gegangen die drei, jene seltenen Schwestern
der Geruch von stieg so falsch, die zutreffenden Dornen so
ich sehe einen Stern heute abend
warum dann, Muß wir? sieht
alle jene Schätze, die liegen
für Wahrheit für Liebe
warum so traurig mein reizendes?
mit dem Sonnenuntergang
erneuern Sie den Anblick der Freude


 



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