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child poem

glass-blower di tempo
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
la fragranza è venuto
amo la mia ora di vento e di luce
osservare di lĂ 
la festività reale è stata fatta
la luna aumentante ha nascosto le stelle
in pieno delle rotture
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma

 



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