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son poem

osservare di là
buona donna
i giorni hypocritic
non brucio incenso
il cielo
come le aquile sul high alto
rinnovi la visione di piacere
felicità
appena come mie barrette su queste chiavi
ci è un paese in pieno di vino
la notte era nera e drear
è andato
tranquillamente, con il reverance, nel awe

 



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