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poetry poem

sono vecchio e cieco
senza sosta
cosě perso
come le aquile sul high alto
questi cuori sono stati tessuti delle gioie umane e cure
ancora il suo gray oscilla la torretta sopra il mare
braided e tessuto
per allora senza
mille anni silenziosi fa
ed ancora hanno camminato sopra
sono stancare di essere amaro e stancare di essere saggio
li prevedo

 



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