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broken heart poem

perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
era una bellezza nei giorni
improvvisamente, dai sensi scuri e frondosi
non sia arrabbiato con me
alti pareti ed enorme
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
come esso
mentre mi sono levato in piedi ascoltare, discreetly dumb
con gioia e wonder
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
oscillato nella culla del profondo
sposti la terra in tempo nuvoloso

 



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