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kid poem

ora
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
non dal mondo largo di tutto
fino alla sua finestra dell'alloggiamento
potrebbe conoscerla nella molla più in anticipo
burly, humble-ape fare un pisolino
chi chiamerà il vento
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
mistero più scuro e più sconosciuto
uno con voi

 



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