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memorial poem

li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
vivo dalla riva del fiume
li prevedo
cantili ancora alla canzone cantati
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
in un vecchio alloggiamento si è illuminato morbidamente
buona donna
provato nel glimmer nei vostri occhi
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
sotto il foglio dusky dell'alloro
ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
in settembre

 



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