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teen poem

le stelle sono caduto da cielo
la neve bisbiglia circa me
dal ponticello rude
sto morendo
splendor dolce
sono andati i tre, quelle sorelle rare
dal pavimento al soffitto
semplicemente parlando
metà di piaceri e palazzi benchè possiamo vagare
nel gather di nerezza e chiedono
quale si conservare
risiedo alla montagna della tabella

 



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