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poem for dad

portimi la canzone morbida
debole- traversata la canzone
i poets dicono a
bench sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
la musica i si sentita con voi era pi della musica
quell'anno
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante
o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi
cammino gi i percorsi del giardino
il padrone dei destini umani sono io

 



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