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poem for dad

la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
non eravamo molti
amo le vecchie disposizioni melodious
tempesta
parla non bene
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
ora mentre i miei labbri stanno vivendo
aumentato dai morti
dio
musing, fra il tramonto e l'oscurità
come un uomo nudo io va
nelle mattine nube-grige
conosco non dove

 



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