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erotic poem

niedrig! ' tis ein Galanacht
herauf von den Süden am Bruch des Tages
Sie sind frei
alle jene Schätze, die liegen
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
desolate und einsam
ich kann nicht seinem greatness immer glauben
ich wußte nie, daß die Masse soviel Gold hatte
ich habe die Welt geworfen

 



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