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mother poem

ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
le vecchie canzoni
sono andati i tre, quelle sorelle rare
le ombre pongono lungo broadway
siete bei e sbiaditi
non sia falso
lungo una riva del fiume
gli archi del ponticello rosso
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
dal puntello, dal mare
come mi trovo coperto dentro, selezionato dentro
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
ciò è la nave della perla
indietro, giri indietro

 



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