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child poem

tranquillamente, con il reverance, nel awe
i giorni malinconici sono venuto
ma non posso ora leggerlo
ancora il suo gray oscilla la torretta sopra il mare
all'interno della mia mano tengo
che cosa era esso i motori detti
i loro capelli bei
questi sono
che cosa noi ora farą
ora per una lotta attiva e cheerful
quando il vento funziona contro di noi nell'oscuritą
riempio questa tazza

 



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