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brother poem

sono il vento che esita
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
la mia anima è un campo arato scuro
ci è un paese in pieno di vino
dolce e forte
sposti la terra in tempo nuvoloso
gaily attraverso i campi abbiamo ballato
mi chiedono dove sono stato
splendido e terribile il vostro amore

 



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