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death poetry

alcuni giorni piů ventosi
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante
vecchio vino da bere
nella sfera
era molte e molto un anno fa
sono andato su e giů le vie
č aumentato e l'ambra era il tramonto sul fiume
penso spesso alla cittŕ bella
era non per quell'odore singolare
sono il vento che esita
bello

 



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