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child poem

perchè
sotto la luna della raccolta
fra le montagne ho vagato
diami la fame
glass-blower di tempo
il sole è in su
non giri la vostra testa
è andato
ancora il suo gray oscilla la torretta sopra il mare
ho visto le stelle più fiere
quando un atto è fatto per la libertà
alcuni giorni più ventosi
sono vecchio e cieco

 



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