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urdu poetry

dove io trovili
mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano
ora
il prato stava strisciando
perchč cosě triste mio bello?
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me
ombre alate che scopano vicino
non dal mondo largo di tutto
ha incurvato l'inondazione
in possa
ottanta anni hanno passato e piů
ho sentito tutto il giorno il vento

 



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