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christian poem

bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
ma non posso ora leggerlo
la nerezza rotola verso l'alto
all'alba, ha detto
vedo tutti gli spiriti umani
il prato stava strisciando
esprimiamo le nostre passioni piů basse
ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco
travails della terra

 



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