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thanksgiving poetry

la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
per coprire il pensiero ardente
per questi bracci bianchi circa il mio collo
la notte era nera e drear
per verit, per amore
nella terra silenziosa
ora
andato prima di noi
ci un paese in pieno di vino
quando vado di nuovo a terra
veda lo sperimentale
ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite

 



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