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death poem

era un oysterman giovane alto
vado il mio senso complacently
lungamente fa la luce solare di estate lucidare
stella-polvere e luce vaporous
braided e tessuto
al lover appassionato
per coprire il pensiero ardente
della l'oscuritŕ e pace nel mia base finale
o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi
perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
mi domando dove vivete

 



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