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angel poem

pensieri tramite la mia testa
le navi stanno trovandosi nella baia
in sua tenda custodita
mi domando dove vivete
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
osservare di lŕ
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
ombre alate che scopano vicino
la penso splendido giusto
tempesta

 



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