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grandmother poem

ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
ho guardato sul cielo glorious
la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
il piĂą triste dell'anno
in tutte le cose non parlate di
morbido come la base nella terra
stella-polvere e luce vaporous
limps con la fermata del passo doloroso
deve andare indietro, ha detto
fiori dei bambini
è spesso non così?

 



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