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black poetry

li ho detestati
siete il mio compagno
lascilo essere triste
sono andati i tre, quelle sorelle rare
in tutte le cose non parlate di
gaily attraverso i campi abbiamo ballato
quando la notte va alla deriva lungo le vie della città
nella sfera
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine
vecchio vino da bere
le navi stanno trovandosi nella baia

 



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