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friend poem

città che non è una città
contro la fiamma verde dell'cratego-albero
i poets dicono a
nella sfera
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
ho lanciato il mondo
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
la signora, il vostro cuore si è girata verso polvere
all'interno della mia mano tengo

 



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