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wedding poem

bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble
era l'autunno dell'anno
ed ancora hanno camminato sopra
stuff della luna
mi chiedono dove sono stato
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
una penna di acciaio
lascili pity coloro di che sia migliore fuori che noi sono

 



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