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wedding poetry

sono vecchio e cieco
sotto il foglio dusky dell'alloro
amo la mia ora di vento e di luce
la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine
quegli occhi neri i una volta così elogiato
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
ho vinto la corsa
nella sfera
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
alcuni giorni più ventosi

 



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