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The Moon, like a flower in heaven’s high bower, with silent delight sits and smiles on the night.

The Moon, like a flower in heaven’s high bower, with silent delight sits and smiles on the night.

Quale fuoco potrebbe mai eguagliare la luce del sole in un giorno d’inverno?
Henry David Thoreau
Se fai l'amore con tante donne qualche regalo ci scappa.
Petyr Baelish