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gothic poetry

ci č un paese in pieno di vino
č ci qualcuno lŕ
vivo dalla riva del fiume
ho detto
ma non posso ora leggerlo
non prego per pace
una foschia stava guidando giů
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
morbido come la base nella terra
che cosa noi ora farŕ
nel porto di nuovo York
non posso ritenere sempre il suo greatness

 



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