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love poems

siete bei e sbiaditi
ottanta anni hanno passato e più
con i suoi capelli che flaying sfrenatamente
i giorni hypocritic
i giorni malinconici sono venuto
città che non è una città
come le aquile sul high alto
ho lanciato il mondo
scuro-eyed
non posso ora dirvi
sono il vento che esita

 



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