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baby poem

desolato e solo
aumentato dai morti
cosě perso
i nostri momenti piacevoli volano
quando un atto č fatto per la libertŕ
le preghiere bianche piccole
nel vostro volo
facce belle e tragical
lo ho visto una volta prima
i giorni malinconici sono venuto
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
le navi stanno trovandosi nella baia
ho sentito tutto il giorno il vento

 



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