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child poem

alla mezzanotte
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
riempio questa tazza
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
ci era un momento durante gli anni precedenti
il rullo triste del tamburo desonorizzato ha battimento
amo le vecchie disposizioni melodious
tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore
ora

 



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