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memorial poem

non ho saputo mai che la terra ha avuta cosě tanto oro
li prevedo
era l'autunno dell'anno
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
una penna di acciaio
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente č stata mescolata
calma come che seconda estate
il rullo triste del tamburo desonorizzato ha battimento
gaily attraverso i campi abbiamo ballato

 



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