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son poem

la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
ci situiamo
con di anima dei labbri colore rosso e cuore della pietra
che cosa noi ora farĂ 
chi ama la pioggia
mi sono sentito che una principessa sicura
quindi non posso
sono stancare di essere amaro e stancare di essere saggio
uccelli contro il vento di aprile

 



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