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baby poem

piantiamo
lungamente fa, nel moonlight giovane
il rullo triste del tamburo desonorizzato ha battimento
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
amo non troppo bene la mia vita, ma
in sua tenda custodita
e come potreste sogno della riunione
i giorni endeared ad ogni MUSE
ora
perchč facciali sempre basamento lŕ che rabbrividisce
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno

 



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