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life poem

basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
esistere dello swan
era un oysterman giovane alto
all'alba, ha detto
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
il mio dispiacere, quando è qui con me
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
scattando in su, cadendo
nella sfera

 



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