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poem

ed ancora hanno camminato sopra
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
sotto la mia finestra in una via della città
un uccello ha cantato
la mia anima è un campo arato scuro
nei numeri mournful
dal sud alla rottura del giorno
i giorni endeared ad ogni MUSE
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
mille anni silenziosi fa
ed il mio nome è sincero
un pensiero dolce solenne
sotto la luna della raccolta

 



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