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mother daughter poem

per potere vedere ogni lato di ogni domanda
li ho detestati
non brucio incenso
la signora, il vostro cuore si č girata verso polvere
glooms delle viv-quercie
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
mescolisi
il prato stava strisciando
fra le montagne ho vagato
per veritŕ, per amore
era l'autunno dell'anno

 



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