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suicide poetry

veda che mi dò voi
città che non è una città
ciò è l'arsenale
penso spesso alla città bella
ho detto, io ho chiuso il mio cuore
se fossi molto sicuro
chi ama la pioggia
fiori dei bambini
il merriment infinito e insensato delle stelle
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
tutti quei tesori che si trovano
i nostri momenti piacevoli volano
quell'anno

 



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