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urdu poetry

quegli occhi neri i una volta cosě elogiato
lascilo essere triste
buona donna
tristemente parlando
quale si conservare
uno per uno, come va da un albero
un pensiero dolce solenne
sopra il fiume beckon a me
sto morendo
sto cantando voi
il prato stava strisciando
morbido come la base nella terra
ho vinto la corsa
perchč sono le cose che non hanno morte

 



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