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erotic poem

in allen Sachen gesprochen nicht von
warum so traurig mein reizendes?
gegangen vor uns
ich liebe meine Stunde des Winds und des Lichtes
wenn ich gekonnt hatte, Enge ein Gefängnis Liebe ist
Sitzen in seinem Schalthebel, der Ihren Tee wartet
von FuĂźboden zu Decke
ängstlich nicht mehr, sage ich
es gibt ein Land voll des Weins

 



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