The love of a woman
is the possibility which
surrounds her as hair
her head, as the love of her
follows and describes
her. But what if
they die, then there is
still the aura
left, left sadly, but
hovers in the air, surely,
where this had taken place?
Then sing, of her, of whom
it will be said, he
sang of her, it was the
song he made which made her
happy, so she lived.
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