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poetry poem

nel porto di nuovo York
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
non sia falso
dal ponticello rude
come come le stelle č questo il bianco, facce nameless
ci č un paese in pieno di vino
alti pareti ed enorme
sono andati i tre, quelle sorelle rare
le navi stanno trovandosi nella baia

 



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