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sad love poem

è andato
ottanta anni hanno passato e più
sedendosi nel suo attuatore che aspetta il vostro tè
siete bei e sbiaditi
corsa alto-sopportata
tramite il seno facente male della vasta terra
conosco che cosa state andando dire
del sole né stelle
dicami
come le aquile sul high alto
quando vado di nuovo a terra
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
chi chiamerà il vento

 



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