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friendship poem

wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
ich fülle diese Schale
die Qual des Habens zu vieler Energie
ein Dichter, nachdem den Zaum seine Zunge entfernt habend
alle jene Schätze, die liegen
tat Sie hören überhaupt
die Lattentagesdrowses auf dem westlichen durchtränken
dieses ist der Song von Jugend
ich mag es
über dem Fluß auf dem Hügel

 



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