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brother poem

come le aquile sul high alto
gli archi del ponticello rosso
non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
andato prima di noi
splendor dolce
desolato e solo
sotto la mia finestra in una via della città
conosco che cosa state andando dire
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
quando ho esaminato i vostri occhi
cammino giù i percorsi del giardino
uplifting, come il vento ha saltato

 



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