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erotic poem

ich sagte
als weiße Kerze
von unseren versteckten Plätzen
melancholische Tage sind gekommen
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
Moonlight tief und zart
plötzlich aus den dunklen und belaubten Weisen heraus
unter dusky Lorbeerblatt
hören Sie zum klingenden Meer

 



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