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poetry poem

due file dei cavoli
la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
penso spesso alla cittĂ  bella
in settembre
o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi
i corridoi di marmo resounding lunghi
pensieri tramite la mia testa
perchè facciali sempre basamento là che rabbrividisce
tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore
come livellare cade

 



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