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mother poem

di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno
dal ponticello rude
e così va
corsa alto-sopportata
all'interno della mia mano tengo
che cosa era esso i motori detti
non posso ora dirvi
è venuto prenderlo dalla mano
l'aria è come una farfalla
addolorisi non per l'invisibile
il mio amore allineare dal suo cuscino è aumentato

 



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