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teen poem

ero un goddess ere il marmo lo ha trovato
la sua faccia giusta e liscia e fine
il mio figlio guasto e sono ciechi andanti
cantili ancora alla canzone cantati
un gleam di oro il gloom in e gray
quando un atto fatto per la libert
in settembre
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
ed ancora hanno camminato sopra
scattando in su, cadendo
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble

 



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