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pumpkin poem

ha scoppiato il vino feroce
che cosa noi ora farà
non sia arrabbiato con me
perchè
tristemente parlando
il merriment infinito e insensato delle stelle
ha sentito i bambini giocare al sole
in vostri bracci era il piacere tranquillo
la notte scorsa la luna piena ha posto un panno del bianco
aumentato dai morti
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
travails della terra
una vita sull'onda dell'oceano

 



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