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poem for pastors

ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco
devo dire buona notte
nel porto di nuovo York
provato nel glimmer nei vostri occhi
conosco non dove
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
i loro capelli bei
passato inesorabile di thou
esistere dello swan
il prato stava strisciando
per allora senza

 



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