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missing you poem

il mio dispiacere, quando è qui con me
sotto la luna della raccolta
il più triste dell'anno
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
hanno avuti lui e la i ma venuto a contatto di
il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
l'aria è come una farfalla
ascolti il mare suonante
una volta questo tappeto erboso molle
ciò è l'arsenale
sono stancare di essere amaro e stancare di essere saggio

 



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