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writing poetry

il mio dispiacere, quando è qui con me
rompiamo il vetro di cui vino sacred
ora mentre i miei labbri stanno vivendo
non ho saputo mai che la terra ha avuta così tanto oro
non appenda corona
sotto il timone del guerriero
è aumentato e l'ambra era il tramonto sul fiume
tranquillamente, con il reverance, nel awe

 



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