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autumn poem

Material des Mondes
so gefallen
ich bin eine Frau
war sie nicht für diesen einzigartigen Geruch
umsponnen und gesponnen
die hypocritic Tage
haben Sie gesehenes Gehen durch das Dorf
der Duft kam
geheimnisvolle Nacht
hängen Sie keinen Wreath
welches hält
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
burly, DösenHumblebiene
von unseren versteckten Plätzen

 



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