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funny poem

i drowses pallidi di giorno sull'occidentale bagnano
sotto il foglio dusky dell'alloro
uplifting, come il vento ha saltato
ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
mi domando dove vivete
l'odore del è aumentato così falso, le spine così allineare
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre

 



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