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angel poem

burly, humble-ape fare un pisolino
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
siete chiari
esprimiamo le nostre passioni più basse
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
scattando in su, cadendo
in corridoi di sonno avete vagato vicino
con gli occhi meek e marroni
era l'autunno dell'anno
penso spesso alla città bella
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire

 



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