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i love you poem

ho vinto la corsa
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
chi chiamerŕ il vento
quindi non posso
ci sono tre sensi in cui gli uomini prendono
una pesca piccola nel frutteto si č sviluppata
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante
il cielo
dal sud alla rottura del giorno
le preghiere bianche piccole
improvvisamente, dai sensi scuri e frondosi

 



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