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def poetry

il sole è in su
morbido come la base nella terra
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
glooms delle viv-quercie
tutto l'mio amore per il mio dolce
le preghiere bianche piccole
che cosa era esso i motori detti
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
all'interno della mia mano tengo
la festività reale è stata fatta
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
eliminazione, lottante vainly

 



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