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fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
perchè
le ombre pongono lungo broadway
in sua tenda custodita
tutti quei tesori che si trovano
quale desidero rilevare
le navi stanno trovandosi nella baia
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
sotto la luna della raccolta
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
i loro capelli bei
nel gather di nerezza e chiedono
truely

 



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