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thanksgiving poetry

jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
wir waren nicht viele
ca. beschwerte sich zum Meister
wenn ich zurĂĽck zu Masse gehe
warum so traurig mein reizendes?
weich jetzt das Licht des Tages
in allen Sachen gesprochen nicht von
während ich das Hören stand, diskret dumb
gebildet vom loveliness alleine
könnten wir aber zu wissen
es gibt ein Land voll des Weins

 



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