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famous poem

ihr schönes Haar
gelebt durch den River-side
ich brenne keinen Duft
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
als Meer-Winde unsere Solitudes durchbohrten
ich sah mit geöffneten Augen
jetzt für einen lebhaften und freundlichen Kampf
geben Sie mir Hunger
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
und mit dem Summenvogel
voll von den Rissen

 



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