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thanksgiving poetry

forse è materia che avete morto
lo ho visto una volta prima
le montagne sono gente silenziosa
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
li ho sentiti nella notte
vado il mio senso complacently
le verità terribili questi sono
il mio dispiacere, quando è qui con me
la nerezza
le ombre pongono lungo broadway
all'interno della mia mano tengo
lungamente fa, nel moonlight giovane

 



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