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son poem

oscillato nella culla del profondo
quegli occhi neri i una volta cosě elogiato
e pane del breaketh non di piů
quando ero un ragazzo all'universitŕ
quando venite stasera
andato prima di noi
penso spesso alla cittŕ bella
perchč facciali sempre basamento lŕ che rabbrividisce
siete bei e sbiaditi
il prato stava strisciando
nobility della morte ancora
dice a di buoni vecchi periodi

 



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