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autumn poem

che probabilitŕ spiteful ruba i unawares
perchč cosě triste mio bello?
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
amo non troppo bene la mia vita, ma
ho avuto un timore nella mia vita
conosce un rilascio poco costoso
i poets dicono a
ero un goddess ere il marmo lo ha trovato
ho visto che hunched e rabbrividendo sulle pietre
splendido e terribile il vostro amore

 



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