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friendship poems

Sonne trat unten von seinem goldenen Throne
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
lieben Sie mich schlieĂźlich oder, wenn Sie nicht werden
wölbte die Flut
GlĂĽck
letzter Mitternacht
weich jetzt das Licht des Tages
gerade als meine Finger auf diesen SchlĂĽsseln

 



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