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sorry poem

ciò è l'arsenale
splendor dolce
scattando in su, cadendo
ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
conosco non dove
vedrò stasera una stella
uno per uno, come va da un albero
siete bei e sbiaditi
sono nell'amore con gli alti posti far-seeing
amilo in fine, o se non
in sua tenda custodita

 



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