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lyric poetry

sotto la luna della raccolta
i loro capelli bei
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
sotto un albero di diffusione della castagna
li ha fatti mai vedono un coccodrillo

 



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