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romantic poem

la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
dal pavimento al soffitto
quando libertĂ  dalla sua altezza della montagna
ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
all'interno di questa tomba umile un conqueror si trova
ho fatto una volta soltanto un voto, uno
siete vivi?
ci era uno strangeness sui vostri labbri
alcuni giorni piĂą ventosi
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno
ma non posso ora leggerlo
ho lanciato il mondo
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
ci situiamo

 



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