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best friend poem

gaily attraverso i campi abbiamo ballato
le canzoni antiche
qui cade nessuna luce
oscillato nella culla del profondo
ha una radura, loveliness vento-riparato
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me

 



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