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poem

poco parco che attraverso
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
rose ed oro
lasci una conservazione di gioia voi
così perso
la festività reale è stata fatta
le navi stanno trovandosi nella baia
il merriment infinito e insensato delle stelle
come come le stelle è questo il bianco, facce nameless
sedendosi nel suo attuatore che aspetta il vostro tè
quando il velare dagli occhi è alzato
potremmo ma sapere

 



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