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mother daughter poem

wenn es
unter dem Helm des Warriors
hängen Sie keinen Wreath
unter den Bergen wandered ich
Massentravails
unnachgiebige Vergangenheit des thou
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
wir legen
Ruhe als die zweiter Sommer
unsere angenehmen Momente fliegen
haben wir keine Schande?
Sie sind mein Begleiter
ich sah mit geöffneten Augen

 



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