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teacher poem

mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano
ci è un'ora di riposo pacifico
la mia anima è un campo arato scuro
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
per guardare tutto il giorno l'onda blu arricciarsi e rompersi
il corpo può limitare
chi ama la pioggia
facce belle e tragical
nei numeri mournful

 



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