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poem for dad

la sua faccia č giusta e liscia e fine
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
quegli occhi neri i una volta cosě elogiato
aumentato dai morti
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
e cosě va
poco cancello č stato raggiunto in fine
alcuni giorni piů ventosi
se esso
come esso
sono stancare di essere amaro e stancare di essere saggio
chi chiamerŕ il vento

 



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