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urdu poetry

il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
passato inesorabile di thou
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
fino alla sua finestra dell'alloggiamento
ed il mio nome sincero
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente stata mescolata
era non per quell'odore singolare

 



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