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death poetry

abbiamo nessuno shame?
le preghiere bianche piccole
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
sposti la terra in tempo nuvoloso
dalla finestra un mare degli alberi verdi
deve andare indietro, ha detto
veda lo sperimentale
all'alba, ha detto
esistere dello swan
con i suoi capelli che flaying sfrenatamente
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi

 



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