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morbidamente piangendo
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
veda, da questa falsificazione di lui
una parola di volo di qui e là
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
i nostri momenti piacevoli volano
mi domando dove vivete
con gioia e wonder
quando libertà dalla sua altezza della montagna
non rimanga nient'altro
le stelle sono caduto da cielo

 



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