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sad death poem

ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
forse è materia che avete morto
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante
ed ancora hanno camminato sopra
il mio dispiacere, quando è qui con me
ed il mio nome è sincero
e con l'uccello di ronzio
l'odore del è aumentato così falso, le spine così allineare
facce belle e tragical
una parola di volo di qui e là

 



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