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type of poem

non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi
sentite la pioggia?
ora mentre i miei labbri stanno vivendo
non ci è fuga dal fiume
ancora il suo gray oscilla la torretta sopra il mare
gloom
ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite
morbido come la base nella terra
quando vado di nuovo a terra
tempesta
sotto la mia finestra in una via della città
veda, rinviano
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me

 



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