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mom poem

basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
č aumentato e l'ambra era il tramonto sul fiume
ho visto la prima pera
uomo freddo severo
come le aquile sul high alto
desolato e solo
cammino giů i percorsi del giardino
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere

 



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