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death poem

fate sentirsi
il mio dispiacere, quando č qui con me
ho vinto la corsa
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
le preghiere bianche piccole
quale si conservare
penso spesso alla cittŕ bella
ho entrato nel deserto perché la mia anima č athirst
č spesso non cosě?
tranquillamente, con il reverance, nel awe
diami la fame

 



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