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black poetry

faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
non giri la vostra testa
volontŕ glimmer sul mare?
č spesso non cosě?
non eravamo molti
il merriment infinito e insensato delle stelle
dove io trovili
limps con la fermata del passo doloroso
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
le vecchie canzoni

 



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