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spanish poem

perch allora, il mosto noi vede?
impaurito nient'altro, dico
nei loro regimentals ragged
il merriment infinito e insensato delle stelle
mi domando dove vivete
amilo in fine, o se non
rose ed oro
per allora senza
migliori che il granito
non ho saputo mai che la terra ha avuta cos tanto oro

 



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