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mom poem

andato prima di noi
sopra i tetti corra le ombre delle nubi
il corpo può limitare
li ho sentiti nella notte
non sia arrabbiato con me
dal mare scintillante
la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
rinnovi la visione di piacere
una foschia stava guidando giù
tempesta
esistere dello swan
poco cancello è stato raggiunto in fine

 



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