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il rullo triste del tamburo desonorizzato ha battimento
tramite il seno facente male della vasta terra
fra le montagne ho vagato
la mia anima è un campo arato scuro
perchè così triste mio bello?
ha detto
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
ho lanciato il mondo
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
è andato

 



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