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christmas poem

il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
pensieri tramite la mia testa
che cosa io devono voi
il giorno è fatto
in vostri bracci era il piacere tranquillo
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
per potere vedere ogni lato di ogni domanda
dio
per verità, per amore
alla mezzanotte
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
tristemente parlando

 



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