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era un oysterman giovane alto
č venuto prenderlo dalla mano
le preghiere bianche piccole
portimi la canzone morbida
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
era l'autunno dell'anno
la notte č scura ed i venti di inverno
all'alba, ha detto
sono una donna
la signora, il vostro cuore si č girata verso polvere
il prato stava strisciando
in vostri bracci era il piacere tranquillo

 



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