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la notte scorsa la luna piena ha posto un panno del bianco
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno
un cielo che non ha conosciuto mai il sole, la luna o le stelle
l'aria è piena l'alba del e la molla
felicità
impaurito nient'altro, dico
all'interno della mia mano tengo
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
musing, fra il tramonto e l'oscurità
la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine

 



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