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sad poem

penso spesso alla città bella
una parola di volo di qui e là
morbidamente piangendo
la signora, il vostro cuore si è girata verso polvere
benchè sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
provato nel glimmer nei vostri occhi
là dalla finestra nella vecchia casa
i poets dicono a
non sia arrabbiato con me
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
figlie di tempo

 



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