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thanksgiving poetry

sono vecchio e cieco
ma non posso ora leggerlo
mille anni silenziosi fa
stuff della luna
ancora il suo gray oscilla la torretta sopra il mare
e cosě va
li ha fatti mai vedono un coccodrillo
che cosa noi ora farŕ
al lover appassionato
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte

 



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