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epic poetry

vecchio vino da bere
per veritŕ, per amore
il cielo
perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
al lato di un campo raso
quando venite stasera
in sua tenda custodita
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
veda lo sperimentale
ha una radura, loveliness vento-riparato
non ho saputo mai che la terra ha avuta cosě tanto oro
nel vostro volo

 



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