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daughter poem

bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
ma non posso ora leggerlo
in possa
all'interno di questa tomba umile un conqueror si trova
vi ricordate di
veda, da questa falsificazione di lui
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
lungamente fa, nel moonlight giovane
quando vado di nuovo a terra
sono andato su e giù le vie

 



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