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mom poem

noi che si sono levati in piedi
glooms delle viv-quercie
i drowses pallidi di giorno sull'occidentale bagnano
le ombre delle navi
truely
non ci č moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
il prato stava strisciando
il corpo puň limitare
ottanta anni hanno passato e piů
tre anni fa oggi
mi sono sentito che una principessa sicura
sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
perchč sono le cose che non hanno morte

 



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