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footprint poem

non rimanga nient'altro
al lato di un campo raso
il sole ha fatto un passo giů dal suo throne dorato
come esso
il merriment infinito e insensato delle stelle
osservare di lŕ
da solo
il singolo pugno serrato alzato e ready
con i suoi capelli che flaying sfrenatamente
non brucio incenso
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble
uomo freddo severo

 



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