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scuro-eyed
la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
qui cade nessuna luce
il sole ha fatto un passo giù dal suo throne dorato
poco cancello è stato raggiunto in fine
così caduto
persino avrebbe suo scherzo
come le aquile sul high alto
ci è uno che quella i amava una volta così tanto
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
stella-polvere e luce vaporous
nei loro regimentals ragged
rose ed oro

 



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