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brother poem

la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
e così va
ha una radura, loveliness vento-riparato
gaily attraverso i campi abbiamo ballato
lungamente fa la luce solare di estate lucidare
quindi non posso
la terra mantiene certo andare di vibrazione
la signora, il vostro cuore si è girata verso polvere
se esso
i poets dicono a
aumentato dai morti

 



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