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ho fatto una volta soltanto un voto, uno
dite che lo amate
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
all'interno della mia mano tengo
per allora senza
nel vostro volo
i drowses pallidi di giorno sull'occidentale bagnano
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
morbido come la base nella terra

 



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