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footprint poem

noi che si sono levati in piedi
rumori che si sforzano strapparsi
cittŕ che non č una cittŕ
una vita sull'onda dell'oceano
deve andare indietro, ha detto
la mia anima č un campo arato scuro
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me
nel porto di nuovo York
non ci č moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso

 



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