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daughter poem

sonno, fratello grigio della morte
chi è il corridore nei cieli
nelle mattine nube-grige
una volta questo tappeto erboso molle
i giorni malinconici sono venuto
era molte e molto un anno fa
amo non troppo bene la mia vita, ma
non ci è fuga dal fiume
che cosa noi ora farà
il padrone dei destini umani sono io
lungamente fa la luce solare di estate lucidare

 



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