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christmas poem

esprimiamo le nostre passioni più basse
era una bellezza nei giorni
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
il sole ha fatto un passo giù dal suo throne dorato
e con l'uccello di ronzio
dal pavimento al soffitto
poco cancello è stato raggiunto in fine
behold me, in miei chiffon, garza e canutiglia
cara moglie

 



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