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thanksgiving poem

faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
un pensiero dolce solenne
aumentato dai morti
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
lĂ  dalla finestra nella vecchia casa
quando il vento funziona contro di noi nell'oscuritĂ 
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
potremmo ma sapere

 



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