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i miss you poem

sotto il timone del guerriero
notte mysterious
quindi non posso
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
sopra il fiume beckon a me
forse
lascilo muoversi lentamente tramite la via
la neve bisbiglia circa me
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me
ma non posso ora leggerlo
quando il velare dagli occhi è alzato

 



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