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black poetry

stuff della luna
ero un goddess ere il marmo lo ha trovato
non sia falso
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
la gradisco
splendor dolce
tristemente parlando
la notte era nera e drear
andato prima di noi
noi che si sono levati in piedi
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
deve andare indietro, ha detto
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi

 



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