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poetry poem

non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
là dalla finestra nella vecchia casa
lascilo muoversi lentamente tramite la via
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
i giorni malinconici sono venuto
tre anni fa oggi
la mia anima è un campo arato scuro
siete bei e sbiaditi
il prato stava strisciando
ci è una città, builded da nessuna mano
il singolo pugno serrato alzato e ready

 



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