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sad poem

è ci qualcuno là
a volte mi domando se è realmente allineare
una pesca piccola nel frutteto si è sviluppata
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
sono vecchio e cieco
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
li ho sentiti nella notte
alcuni dei hurts che avete curato
il merriment infinito e insensato delle stelle

 



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