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love poem

rompiamo il vetro di cui vino sacred
nel porto di nuovo York
la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
con il tramonto
non sia arrabbiato con me
le stelle sono caduto da cielo
dite che lo amate
ma non posso ora leggerlo
potrebbe conoscerla nella molla piů in anticipo
perchč
perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
non appenda corona
fra le montagne ho vagato

 



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