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halloween poem

la notte č scura ed i venti di inverno
esistere dello swan
sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
parla non bene
splendor dolce
benchč sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
con gli occhi meek e marroni
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio

 



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