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sad poetry

splendor dolce
il sole ha fatto un passo giù dal suo throne dorato
amilo in fine, o se non
gloom
la nerezza rotola verso l'alto
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
dai nostri posti nascosti
lascilo essere triste
ci sono tre sensi in cui gli uomini prendono
vecchio vino da bere

 



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