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anniversary poetry

figlie di tempo
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
non rimanga nient'altro
sotto la mia finestra in una via della cittĂ 
città che non è una città
vado il mio senso complacently
all'alba, ha detto
quando il velare dagli occhi è alzato
appena come mie barrette su queste chiavi
la mia anima è un campo arato scuro

 



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