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epic poetry

ottanta anni hanno passato e piů
le tonalitŕ della notte stavano cadendo velocemente
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
truely
oscillato nella culla del profondo
a volte mi domando se č realmente allineare
riempio questa tazza
quindi non posso
il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti

 



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