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thanksgiving poem

impaurito nient'altro, dico
in sua tenda custodita
il cielo
passando tramite le pareti huddled ed ugly
hanno avuti lui e la i ma venuto a contatto di
chi chiamerŕ il vento
andato prima di noi
quando libertŕ dalla sua altezza della montagna
forse č materia che avete morto
nella sfera

 



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