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per questi bracci bianchi circa il mio collo
l'alba era verde mela
con di anima dei labbri colore rosso e cuore della pietra
ancora tredici anni
morbido come la base nella terra
fino alla sua finestra dell'alloggiamento
il più triste dell'anno
indietro, giri indietro
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate

 



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