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thanksgiving poem

il sole è in su
il mio dispiacere, quando è qui con me
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
risiedo alla montagna della tabella
ombre alate che scopano vicino
nel porto di nuovo York
un miglio dietro
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
senza dubbio mi ricordo di ancora
per venire così presto a questo ha immaginato l'oscurità
provato nel glimmer nei vostri occhi

 



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