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short poem

se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
ho visto che hunched e rabbrividendo sulle pietre
ho fatto una volta soltanto un voto, uno
era non per quell'odore singolare
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
tramite il seno facente male della vasta terra
una vita sull'onda dell'oceano
la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine
in vostri bracci era il piacere tranquillo

 



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