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haiku poetry

il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
ad alcuno i dii grassi
pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
sotto il timone del guerriero
ha sentito i bambini giocare al sole
dal ponticello rude
come esso
del sole né stelle
quando un atto è fatto per la libertà

 



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