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wedding poetry

per allora senza
sono andati i tre, quelle sorelle rare
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
i corridoi di marmo resounding lunghi
con i suoi capelli che flaying sfrenatamente
tengo il vostro cuore
splendor dolce
nella terra silenziosa
ci è una città, builded da nessuna mano
dal ponticello rude
sono fevered

 



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