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romantic poem

sono il vento che esita
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante
ho avuto un sogno e mi sono svegliato con esso
appena come mie barrette su queste chiavi
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
veda che mi dò voi
chi ama la pioggia
come le aquile sul high alto

 



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