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sorry poem

serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
cosě perso
qui cade nessuna luce
nei numeri mournful
all'interno della mia mano tengo
come candela bianca
a volte mi domando se č realmente allineare
le canzoni antiche
metŕ di piaceri e palazzi benchč possiamo vagare
devo dire buona notte
uccelli contro il vento di aprile

 



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