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math poem

penso spesso alla cittŕ bella
era l'autunno dell'anno
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno
cosě perso
cane dal percalle ed il gatto del calicň
dice a di buoni vecchi periodi
gloom
avete camminare visto attraverso il villaggio
l'aria č piena l'alba del e la molla

 



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