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writing poetry

dai prati ricchi con cereale
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
non ho saputo mai che la terra ha avuta cosě tanto oro
malinconia, azzurro era
sotto il timone del guerriero
ciň č la nave della perla
morbidamente piangendo
ho fatto una pausa la stoffa per tendine aperta
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte

 



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