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birthday poetry

ultima mezzanotte
l'alba era verde mela
come livellare cade
una foschia stava guidando giù
sotto la mia finestra in una via della città
come le aquile sul high alto
quando libertà dalla sua altezza della montagna
conosce un rilascio poco costoso
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
era molte e molto un anno fa
nei numeri mournful
i poets dicono a
sono il vento che esita


 



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