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death poem

a fost un tânăr înalt oysterman
a venit şi mi-a luat de mână
o dulce solemnă crezut
de zgârcit singur pumn ridicat şi gata
i, prin urmare, nu pot
Sunt febril
i spus
spuma floare alb, rosu flacără floare
Am castigat cursa
de luncă a fost târâtor
acesta este arsenalul
i place sa obtina un timp departe


 



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