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lyric poem

il sole ha fatto un passo giù dal suo throne dorato
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
città che non è una città
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
la terra mantiene certo andare di vibrazione
la neve bisbiglia circa me
in tutte le cose non parlate di
i giorni malinconici sono venuto
bello

 



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