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african american poetry

il prato stava strisciando
in pieno delle rotture
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
la luna aumentante ha nascosto le stelle
la festivitŕ reale č stata fatta
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
all'alba, ha detto
sono vecchio e cieco
e come potreste sogno della riunione

 



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