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death poem

gli archi del ponticello rosso
chi chiamerà il vento
quando libertà dalla sua altezza della montagna
circa ha sporto querela al padrone
ed il mio nome è sincero
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
rompiamo il vetro di cui vino sacred
nel porto di nuovo York
fate sentirsi
ha incurvato l'inondazione

 



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