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sad poem

sopra loro tutte, osservando giů
la notte č scura ed i venti di inverno
sono il vento che esita
lungamente fa la luce solare di estate lucidare
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
nei numeri mournful
la penso splendido giusto
senza dubbio mi ricordo di ancora
prima del san bronze solenne
i giorni endeared ad ogni MUSE
un pensiero dolce solenne
osservare di lŕ

 



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