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african american poetry

amo non troppo bene la mia vita, ma
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
č spesso non cosě?
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
uplifting, come il vento ha saltato
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
lungamente fa, nel moonlight giovane
ho visto le nubi fra le colline
e con l'uccello di ronzio
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno

 



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