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short love poem

diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
ich stand
die Dämmerung war apfelgrün
erklären Sie mir nicht
warum dann, Muß wir? sieht
ich habe die stolzesten Sterne gesehen
warum
voll von den Rissen
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
ich loathed Sie

 



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