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death poem

la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me
non sia falso
la notte era nera e drear
i corridoi di marmo resounding lunghi
limps con la fermata del passo doloroso
tutti gli anni sfavorevoli
improvvisamente, dai sensi scuri e frondosi
per allora senza
i drowses pallidi di giorno sull'occidentale bagnano
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
fino alla sua finestra dell'alloggiamento
ero un goddess ere il marmo lo ha trovato
mi sono levato in piedi

 



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