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writing poetry

il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
ho visto la prima pera
quale desidero rilevare
vecchio vino da bere
questi cuori sono stati tessuti delle gioie umane e cure
l'amore č stato cantato mille sensi
moonlight profondo e tenero
conosco non dove
glooms delle viv-quercie
amavo una donna
ma non posso ora leggerlo
improvvisamente, dai sensi scuri e frondosi

 



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