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writing poetry

sono andato su e giů le vie
fra le montagne ho vagato
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
andato prima di noi
conosco non dove
come livellare cade
quando vado di nuovo a terra
che cosa era esso i motori detti
musing, fra il tramonto e l'oscuritŕ
sotto la mia finestra in una via della cittŕ
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
mi chiedono dove sono stato

 



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