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death poetry

quando ero si è rotto a Londra
i giorni hypocritic
cara moglie
la gradisco
per venire così presto a questo ha immaginato l'oscurità
la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine
basamento qui dal mio lato
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
ciò è la canzone della gioventù
i drowses pallidi di giorno sull'occidentale bagnano
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes

 



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