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fall poem

uccelli contro il vento di aprile
una pesca piccola nel frutteto si sviluppata
non ho saputo mai che la terra ha avuta cos tanto oro
in settembre
sono stancare di essere amaro e stancare di essere saggio
provato nel glimmer nei vostri occhi
poich ho ritenuto il senso della morte
quando il vento funziona contro di noi nell'oscurit
stuff della luna
in possa
la nerezza
quando ero si rotto a Londra
con di anima dei labbri colore rosso e cuore della pietra

 



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