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black poetry

ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite
il piů triste dell'anno
ed ancora hanno camminato sopra
per allora senza
dolce e forte
del sole né stelle
stella-polvere e luce vaporous
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
un cielo che non ha conosciuto mai il sole, la luna o le stelle

 



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