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death poetry

quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
sotto un albero di diffusione della castagna
o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi
pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
ho vinto la corsa
l'amore è stato cantato mille sensi
non eravamo molti
le veritĂ  terribili questi sono
lĂ  dalla finestra nella vecchia casa

 



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