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thanksgiving poem

lascili pity coloro di che sia migliore fuori che noi sono
tre anni fa oggi
morbidamente piangendo
quando libertà dalla sua altezza della montagna
l'odore del è aumentato così falso, le spine così allineare
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble
sentite la pioggia?
notte mysterious
dice a di buoni vecchi periodi
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
la luna aumentante ha nascosto le stelle
quell'anno
come le aquile sul high alto
la nerezza

 



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