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retirement poem

questi cuori sono stati tessuti delle gioie umane e cure
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
rose ed oro
vecchio vino da bere
se esso
la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
i cieli che erano ashen e sobrio
la notte era nera e drear
non sia falso
li ha fatti mai vedono un coccodrillo

 



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