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poem for pastors

le ombre delle navi
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
il fratello, sono fuoco
la notte era nera e drear
e come potreste sogno della riunione
dal profondo e l'oscurità
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
e così va

 



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