And 'Sunday and raining without you: the dancers dance and intersect, It makes music on the piano wishy-cic and I see a thousand fingers saltellar puddles on the keys that are clamoring. Maybe he is playing the trumpet in the wind and there is ... it rains only a souvenir tin-tin on my heart, "are you from overflowing love that?" Umberto F. M. Cefalà -dedicata a Irene-
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