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sister poem

con il tramonto
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
che cosa io devono voi
dio
felicitŕ
per ero un consigliere gaunt e grave
le montagne sono gente silenziosa
rumori che si sforzano strapparsi
alcuni giorni piů ventosi
benchč sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
era un oysterman giovane alto
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro

 



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