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spanish poem

chi chiamerĂ  il vento
tre giorni li ho sentiti addolorarsi quando mi situo completamente
quando libertĂ  dalla sua altezza della montagna
la neve bisbiglia circa me
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
dove io trovili
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
uno con voi
i giorni malinconici sono venuto
fate non sentirsi
sono vecchio e cieco
li ho fatti un'offerta tutto l'addio

 



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