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christmas poem

cittŕ che non č una cittŕ
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente č stata mescolata
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
ho visto le stelle piů fiere
uno con voi
babylon -- dove vado sognare
in possa
un pensiero dolce solenne
scattando in su, cadendo
quale si conservare
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays

 



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