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type of poetry

tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore
dicami non
al lato di un campo raso
è andato
la mia anima è un campo arato scuro
il padrone dei destini umani sono io
sotto il foglio dusky dell'alloro
il cielo
i loro capelli bei
quando la notte va alla deriva lungo le vie della città
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
l'amore è stato cantato mille sensi
dio

 



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