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inspirational poem

ottanta anni hanno passato e più
le preghiere bianche piccole
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
scattando in su, cadendo
in pieno delle rotture
ho sentito tutto il giorno il vento
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
che cosa io devono voi
braided e tessuto
tranquillamente, con il reverance, nel awe

 



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