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funeral poem

i drowses pallidi di giorno sull'occidentale bagnano
perchč
rompiamo il vetro di cui vino sacred
alcuni dei hurts che avete curato
benchč repine di amore e strofinio di motivo
nel porto di nuovo York
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
all'interno della mia mano tengo
tutti si acquietano lungo il potomac
ciň č la nave della perla

 



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