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baby poem

all'alba, ha detto
nel vostro volo
portimi la canzone morbida
li prevedo
il cielo
non posso ora dirvi
sono vecchio e cieco
appena come mie barrette su queste chiavi
o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
morbidamente piangendo
amo rubare per un po'via
sposti la terra in tempo nuvoloso

 



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