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best love poem

e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente è stata mescolata
ad alcuno i dii grassi
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
la penso splendido giusto
le verità terribili questi sono
quando libertà dalla sua altezza della montagna
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
dice a di buoni vecchi periodi

 



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