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famous poetry

non brucio incenso
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
nel porto di nuovo York
e pane del breaketh non di piĂą
in vostri bracci era il piacere tranquillo
ha incurvato l'inondazione
all'alba, ha detto
dai nostri posti nascosti
passando tramite le pareti huddled ed ugly
ed il mio nome è sincero

 



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