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sad poetry

una foschia stava guidando giů
per coprire il pensiero ardente
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
cane dal percalle ed il gatto del calicň
indietro, giri indietro
dove io trovili
cittŕ che non č una cittŕ
non prego per pace
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
fiori dei bambini
dio

 



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