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prose poetry

nei numeri mournful
calma come che seconda estate
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
mi domando dove vivete
risiedo alla montagna della tabella
in vostri bracci era il piacere tranquillo
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
ci č un'ora di riposo pacifico
i cieli che erano ashen e sobrio
ho lanciato il mondo

 



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