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type of poetry

glass-blower di tempo
all'alba, ha detto
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
era l'autunno dell'anno
in settembre
sentite la pioggia?
con gli occhi meek e marroni
una foschia stava guidando giů
e come potreste sogno della riunione
ora per una lotta attiva e cheerful

 



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