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christian poem

lungamente fa la luce solare di estate lucidare
circa ha sporto querela al padrone
alcuni giorni più ventosi
una penna di acciaio
faccialo rotare giù dal prato
riassunto su una notte di volo
amilo in fine, o se non
non ho saputo mai che la terra ha avuta così tanto oro
qui cade nessuna luce
non sia falso
mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano

 



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