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short love poem

perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
quale si conservare
il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
benchè sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
sono andato su e giù le vie
la notte scorsa la luna piena ha posto un panno del bianco
fra le montagne ho vagato
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate

 



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