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narrative poetry

non eravamo molti
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
dal mare scintillante
glooms delle viv-quercie
lasci una conservazione di gioia voi
ho visto le nubi fra le colline
la festività reale è stata fatta
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
ho vinto la corsa
migliori che il granito
tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore

 



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