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spanish poem

scattando in su, cadendo
poco parco che attraverso
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
ci sono tre sensi in cui gli uomini prendono
ciň č la nave della perla
il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
quando libertŕ dalla sua altezza della montagna
in settembre
scuro-eyed
li ho sentiti nella notte

 



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