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daughter poem

qui cade nessuna luce
il piů triste dell'anno
andato prima di noi
circa ha sporto querela al padrone
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
uplifting, come il vento ha saltato
quando vado di nuovo a terra
tutti si acquietano lungo il potomac
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
conosco non dove
lascilo essere triste

 



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