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i miss you poem

forse è materia che avete morto
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
che cosa io devono voi
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
figlie di tempo
le vecchie canzoni
migliori che il granito
sono nell'amore con gli alti posti far-seeing
semplicemente parlando
deve andare indietro, ha detto

 



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