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death poetry

come le aquile sul high alto
gli archi del ponticello rosso
nei numeri mournful
che cosa io devono voi
ho avuto un sogno e mi sono svegliato con esso
sto morendo
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
siete vivi?
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
il mio dispiacere, quando č qui con me
questi sono
le canzoni antiche
tre anni fa oggi

 



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