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short friendship poem

fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
quando ho rinviato al tramonto
dai nostri posti nascosti
ho visto la prima pera
semplicemente parlando
se esso
una foschia stava guidando giù
e pane del breaketh non di più
la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
conosco che cosa state andando dire
sono il vento che esita
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala

 



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