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child poetry

perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
la luce ritirata
nobility della morte ancora
riempio questa tazza
tranquillamente, con il reverance, nel awe
li ho sentiti nella notte
faccia i ragazzi e le ragazze ancora vanno
ad alcuno i dii grassi

 



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