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brother poem

ma non posso ora leggerlo
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
lungo le serie
alcuni dei hurts che avete curato
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
e con l'uccello di ronzio
una volta questo tappeto erboso molle
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante
dicami non
così perso
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte

 



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