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death poem

su e giù va
le preghiere bianche piccole
sto morendo
dato che, se faceste una pausa oggi il mio lato
non dal mondo largo di tutto
li prevedo
la mia anima è un campo arato scuro
li ho sentiti nella notte
era una bellezza nei giorni
quegli occhi neri i una volta così elogiato
i corridoi di marmo resounding lunghi

 



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