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grandmother poem

questi sono
ma alas, sogni giusti
sono fevered
l'aria č piena l'alba del e la molla
mescolisi
lungamente fa la luce solare di estate lucidare
dai prati ricchi con cereale
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
quando libertŕ dalla sua altezza della montagna
un'ombra grigia sottile sul bordo di pensiero
per ero un consigliere gaunt e grave
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate

 



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