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baby poem

era l'autunno dell'anno
chi è il corridore nei cieli
veda che mi dò voi
quando, pieno di amore caldo e desideroso
vi ricordate di
in tutte le cose non parlate di
sotto il foglio dusky dell'alloro
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
come io aiuti alla destra il mondo che sta andando male

 



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