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short poem

come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
sopra loro tutte, osservando giů
del sole né stelle
ho fatto una pausa la stoffa per tendine aperta
per questi bracci bianchi circa il mio collo
mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano
piantiamo
i cieli che erano ashen e sobrio
quando vado di nuovo a terra
da solo
amavo una donna

 



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