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spanish poem

il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
perchč sono le cose che non hanno morte
fate non sentirsi
il merriment infinito e insensato delle stelle
al lover appassionato
č venuto prenderlo dalla mano
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
vivo dalla riva del fiume
ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco
le navi stanno trovandosi nella baia
moonlight profondo e tenero
conosco non dove

 



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