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sorry poem

la festivitŕ reale č stata fatta
prima del san bronze solenne
la gradisco
una volta questo tappeto erboso molle
ed ancora hanno camminato sopra
per potere vedere ogni lato di ogni domanda
lucida l'ultima etŕ, il seguente con speranza č visto
ci č un paese in pieno di vino
dal sud alla rottura del giorno
penso spesso alla cittŕ bella
come come le stelle č questo il bianco, facce nameless
le stelle sono caduto da cielo

 



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