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wedding poetry

penso spesso alla città bella
la festività reale è stata fatta
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente è stata mescolata
non posso ritenere sempre il suo greatness
non prego per pace
il più triste dell'anno
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
quando, pieno di amore caldo e desideroso
chi è il corridore nei cieli
il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio

 



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