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spanish poem

l'alba era verde mela
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
un miglio dietro
desolato e solo
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
dai nostri posti nascosti
ho detto, io ho chiuso il mio cuore
amo le vecchie disposizioni melodious
il corpo può limitare
una pesca piccola nel frutteto si è sviluppata

 



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