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father poem

forse
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
poco parco che attraverso
all'alba, ha detto
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
come io aiuti alla destra il mondo che sta andando male
sto cantando voi
la luce ritirata

 



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