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grandma poem

li ho detestati
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
sotto la luna della raccolta
non ci moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
amavo una donna
non appenda corona
con i suoi capelli che flaying sfrenatamente
senza dubbio mi ricordo di ancora
quando vado di nuovo a terra

 



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