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dark poetry

quando ho rinviato al tramonto
ciò è l'arsenale
impaurito nient'altro, dico
persino avrebbe suo scherzo
truely
travails della terra
nelle mattine nube-grige
ci è un paese in pieno di vino
con gioia e wonder
due file dei cavoli
limps con la fermata del passo doloroso
il sole ha fatto un passo giù dal suo throne dorato
non si addolori che finito

 



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