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love poetry

Tage endeared zu jedem MUSE
gloom
zwei Reihen der Kohlpflanzen
in ihren zackigen regimentals
an der Dämmerung sagte er
irgendwo las ich eine merkwürdige, alte, rostige Geschichte
wenig Park, den ich durch führe
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
warum so traurig mein reizendes?
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
mit Freude und Wunder

 



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