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poem

perchč
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
non prego per pace
parla non bene
vado il mio senso complacently
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
li ho fatti un'offerta tutto l'addio
dal pavimento al soffitto
sotto la luna della raccolta
il mio dispiacere, quando č qui con me

 



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