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narrative poetry

una penna di acciaio
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
sopra loro tutte, osservando giù
ci sono tre sensi in cui gli uomini prendono
era una bellezza nei giorni
amo la mia ora di vento e di luce
era l'autunno dell'anno
amico, di cui il sorriso è venuto essere
al lato di un campo raso
moonlight profondo e tenero
sto cantando voi

 



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