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poetry poem

movimento del vostro corpo è come musica
siete svegli?
dal ponticello rude
la gradisco
chi chiamerà il vento
la festività reale è stata fatta
il fratello, sono fuoco
sopra il fiume beckon a me
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
noi che si sono levati in piedi
mi sono sentito che una principessa sicura
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble

 



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