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life poetry

se esso
la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
sotto un albero di diffusione della castagna
sotto la mia finestra in una via della città
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
là dalla finestra nella vecchia casa
quel compagno sconosciuto è venuto sul mescolareare i piedi
chi chiamerà il vento
stuff della luna
per allora senza
tutti quei tesori che si trovano
fate sentirsi

 



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