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black poetry

la notte era nera e drear
facce belle e tragical
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
debole-è traversata la canzone
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente è stata mescolata
la penso splendido giusto
in possa
sotto la mia finestra in una via della città
un uccello ha cantato
desolato e solo
dal pavimento al soffitto

 



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