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lost love poem

wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
ich sah die erste Birne
allein
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
ich sah, daß Gott Sie es? bezweifeln
stern kalter Mann
unnachgiebige Vergangenheit des thou
ich sah, daß Sie und shivering auf den Steinen hunched
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein

 



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