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grandmother poem

amo la mia ora di vento e di luce
come livellare cade
ciň č la nave della perla
qui cade nessuna luce
nel porto di nuovo York
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
una pesca piccola nel frutteto si č sviluppata
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
volontŕ glimmer sul mare?

 



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