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thank you poem

vecchio vino da bere
del sole né stelle
devo dire buona notte
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
ottanta anni hanno passato e piů
in corridoi di sonno avete vagato vicino
come livellare cade
siete chiari
non rimanga nient'altro


 



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