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african american poetry

nel porto di nuovo York
non sia falso
vedo tutti gli spiriti umani
con di anima dei labbri colore rosso e cuore della pietra
la notte era nera e drear
vi ricordate di
per guardare tutto il giorno l'onda blu arricciarsi e rompersi
non posso ora dirvi
limps con la fermata del passo doloroso
come candela bianca
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
sotto il timone del guerriero
ancora tredici anni
fiori dei bambini

 



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