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life poem

ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco
osservare di là
penso spesso alla città bella
conosco non dove
alcuni giorni più ventosi
per allora senza
faccialo rotare giù dal prato
uno con voi
città che non è una città
sono il vento che esita
malinconia, azzurro era

 



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