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child poem

le tonalità della notte stavano cadendo velocemente
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
non brucio incenso
nei loro regimentals ragged
lungamente fa la luce solare di estate lucidare
ottanta anni hanno passato e più
sole e vento e battimento del mare
migliori che il granito

 



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