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poem and quote

una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
amilo in fine, o se non
malinconia, azzurro era
i giorni malinconici sono venuto
uno con voi
mi chiedono dove sono stato
nobility della morte ancora
sotto la luna della raccolta
nel vostro volo
nel gather di nerezza e chiedono

 



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