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short funny poem

un gleam di oro il gloom in e gray
poco parco che attraverso
sentite la pioggia?
perchè così triste mio bello?
la fragranza è venuto
sopra-avevo preparato l'evento
la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte

 



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