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poetry poem

un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
poco parco che attraverso
ho visto le nubi fra le colline
guardi indietro con gli occhi longing e sappia che seguirò
che cosa io devono voi
per allora senza
lascilo essere triste
dio
nei numeri mournful
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
parla non bene
lungamente fa, nel moonlight giovane
morbido come la base nella terra

 



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