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poem for pastors

senza dubbio mi ricordo di ancora
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
quando libertŕ dalla sua altezza della montagna
osservare di lŕ
la gradisco
il corpo puň limitare
migliori che il granito
improvvisamente, dai sensi scuri e frondosi
un gleam di oro il gloom in e gray
non ci č fuga dal fiume
tempesta
abbiamo nessuno shame?

 



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