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haiku poem

tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore
una pesca piccola nel frutteto si è sviluppata
ciò è l'arsenale
le navi stanno trovandosi nella baia
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco
i giorni endeared ad ogni MUSE
non posso ritenere sempre il suo greatness
il mio amore allineare dal suo cuscino è aumentato
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
sopra il fiume, sulla collina

 



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