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narrative poetry

quel compagno sconosciuto è venuto sul mescolareare i piedi
la signora, il vostro cuore si è girata verso polvere
mi domando dove vivete
chi ama la pioggia
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
parla non bene
come come le stelle è questo il bianco, facce nameless
nella sfera

 



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