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epic poetry

o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
ha detto
da me indegno e sconosciuto
calma come che seconda estate
chi chiamerà il vento
per allora senza
è ci qualcuno là
qui cade nessuna luce
uno con voi
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
le preghiere bianche piccole
del sole né stelle
passato inesorabile di thou

 



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