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poetry poem

il dolce con il fern ed è aumentato
una foschia stava guidando giù
fate non sentirsi
due file dei cavoli
le tonalità della notte stavano cadendo velocemente
la notte era nera e drear
dice a di buoni vecchi periodi
qui cade nessuna luce
con gli occhi meek e marroni
una volta questo tappeto erboso molle
la terra mantiene certo andare di vibrazione
non rimanga nient'altro
i loro capelli bei

 



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