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christmas poetry

l'aria è piena l'alba del e la molla
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
che probabilità spiteful ruba i unawares
quando vado di nuovo a terra
il prato stava strisciando
della l'oscurità e pace nel mia base finale
i corridoi di marmo resounding lunghi
nei numeri mournful
un cielo che non ha conosciuto mai il sole, la luna o le stelle
devo dire buona notte

 



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