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thanksgiving poetry

le montagne sono gente silenziosa
gaily attraverso i campi abbiamo ballato
possono comunicare di amore in un cottage
nel gather di nerezza e chiedono
il padrone dei destini umani sono io
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
il merriment infinito e insensato delle stelle
la mia anima è un campo arato scuro
sono fevered
i cieli che erano ashen e sobrio
ho detto
un cielo che non ha conosciuto mai il sole, la luna o le stelle
morbido come la base nella terra

 



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