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i miss you poem

l'alba era verde mela
il prato stava strisciando
appena come mie barrette su queste chiavi
siete bei e sbiaditi
conosco non dove
il più triste dell'anno
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
da me indegno e sconosciuto
che cosa io devono voi
come un uomo nudo io va
chi ama la pioggia

 



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