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pumpkin poem

la sua faccia č giusta e liscia e fine
ed il mio nome č sincero
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
veda, da questa falsificazione di lui
passando tramite le pareti huddled ed ugly
il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
sono stancare di essere amaro e stancare di essere saggio
quando il vento funziona contro di noi nell'oscuritŕ
all'interno della mia mano tengo

 



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