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child poetry

perchè così triste mio bello?
braided e tessuto
sotto il timone del guerriero
come livellare cade
la festività reale è stata fatta
fiori dei bambini
qui cade nessuna luce
stella-polvere e luce vaporous
appena come mie barrette su queste chiavi
cantili ancora alla canzone cantati
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre

 



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