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child poetry

li prevedo
le stelle sono caduto da cielo
nel porto di nuovo York
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
dicami più di meno o dicami di più
il mio dispiacere, quando è qui con me
quegli occhi neri i una volta così elogiato
ancora il suo gray oscilla la torretta sopra il mare
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare

 



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