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memorial poem

gli archi del ponticello rosso
era non per quell'odore singolare
osservi fuori sulle stelle, il mio amore
esistere dello swan
ho avuto un timore nella mia vita
non giri la vostra testa
behold me, in miei chiffon, garza e canutiglia
per coprire il pensiero ardente
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
amilo in fine, o se non
la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
quelli sul superiore dicono che li conoscono, terra -- sono liars
non si addolori che finito

 



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