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friend poetry

in pieno delle rotture
una volta questo tappeto erboso molle
o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
uno sguardo è ma un raggio
sopra il fiume, sulla collina
mai in tutta la mia vita
questi sono
risiedo alla montagna della tabella
qui cade nessuna luce
l'aria è piena l'alba del e la molla
il prato stava strisciando

 



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