.Ãber nächtlich dunkle Fluten
Sing' ich meine traurigen Lieder,
Lieder, die wie Wunden bluten.
Doch kein Herz trägt sie mir wieder>Durch das Dunkel her.
Ein schwüler Garten stand die Nacht.
Wir schwiegen uns, was uns grauend erfaÃt.
Davon sind unsre Herzen erwacht
Und.
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