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erotic poetry

sopra il fiume beckon a me
devo dire buona notte
perchč cosě triste mio bello?
perchč sono le cose che non hanno morte
amilo in fine, o se non
sto cantando voi
una parola di volo di qui e lŕ
per potere vedere ogni lato di ogni domanda
dice a di buoni vecchi periodi
e come potreste sogno della riunione
ancora il suo gray oscilla la torretta sopra il mare
senza sosta

 



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