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sad poetry

felicitŕ
il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
sposti la terra in tempo nuvoloso
ho entrato nel deserto perché la mia anima č athirst
i giorni malinconici sono venuto
tristemente parlando
conosce un rilascio poco costoso
noi che si sono levati in piedi
ho vinto la corsa
l'agonia di avere troppa alimentazione

 



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