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urdu poetry

pensieri tramite la mia testa
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
questi sono
nel porto di nuovo York
dio
glass-blower di tempo
ha sentito i bambini giocare al sole
notte mysterious
quelli sul superiore dicono che li conoscono, terra -- sono liars
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili

 



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