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sad death poem

i corridoi di marmo resounding lunghi
ha sentito i bambini giocare al sole
fiori dei bambini
riempio questa tazza
dite che lo amate
che cosa noi ora far
ha detto
esistere dello swan
non ci moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
la notte scura ed i venti di inverno
siete svegli?

 



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