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autumn poem

ma alas, sogni giusti
era l'autunno dell'anno
cosě caduto
sopra il fiume beckon a me
cara moglie
per guardare tutto il giorno l'onda blu arricciarsi e rompersi
short e dolce ed abbiamo arrivato alla fine di esso
desolato e solo
tramite il seno facente male della vasta terra
le preghiere bianche piccole
tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea

 



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