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death poem

la sua faccia č giusta e liscia e fine
una penna di acciaio
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
mi sono sentito che una principessa sicura
metŕ di piaceri e palazzi benchč possiamo vagare
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
volontŕ glimmer sul mare?
il giorno č fatto
ed il mio nome č sincero

 



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