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mother poem

le ombre delle navi
il piů triste dell'anno
quando vado di nuovo a terra
una pesca piccola nel frutteto si č sviluppata
burly, humble-ape fare un pisolino
quando la notte va alla deriva lungo le vie della cittŕ
parla non bene
con il tramonto
non ci č moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
i giorni endeared ad ogni MUSE
da me indegno e sconosciuto

 



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