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black poetry

č ci qualcuno lŕ
babylon -- dove vado sognare
quando ero si č rotto a Londra
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
guardi indietro con gli occhi longing e sappia che seguirň
perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
dato che, se faceste una pausa oggi il mio lato
fiori dei bambini
tutti quei tesori che si trovano

 



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