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best friend poem

il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
nel porto di nuovo York
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
sopra-avevo preparato l'evento
poich ho ritenuto il senso della morte
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano
in settembre
con di anima dei labbri colore rosso e cuore della pietra
lungamente fa, nel moonlight giovane
conosco che cosa state andando dire

 



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