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sad poetry

ci è una città, builded da nessuna mano
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
la musica i si è sentita con voi era più della musica
splendor dolce
figlie di tempo
parla non bene
la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine
la terra mantiene certo andare di vibrazione
impaurito nient'altro, dico
improvvisamente, dai sensi scuri e frondosi
tre anni fa oggi

 



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