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birthday poetry

il prato stava strisciando
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
parla non bene
uomo freddo severo
penso spesso alla cittŕ bella
la luce ritirata
siete chiari
la notte č scura ed i venti di inverno
in possa

 



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