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poetry for kid

i nostri momenti piacevoli volano
ho detto
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
l'aria è piena l'alba del e la molla
li ho sentiti nella notte
dai prati ricchi con cereale
all'interno della mia mano tengo
ed il mio nome è sincero
morbidamente piangendo
metà di piaceri e palazzi benchè possiamo vagare
lungamente fa, nel moonlight giovane

 



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