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sad death poem

e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente è stata mescolata
conosco che cosa state andando dire
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
lungamente fa, nel moonlight giovane
il più triste dell'anno
nei loro regimentals ragged
nella terra silenziosa
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
glass-blower di tempo
in settembre
morbidamente piangendo
ora

 



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