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autumn poem

non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
glass-blower di tempo
per guardare tutto il giorno l'onda blu arricciarsi e rompersi
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
il rullo triste del tamburo desonorizzato ha battimento
questi cuori sono stati tessuti delle gioie umane e cure
rompiamo il vetro di cui vino sacred
le ombre pongono lungo broadway
ho avuto un timore nella mia vita


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