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prose poetry

ciò è la canzone della gioventù
sopra loro tutte, osservando giù
una volta questo tappeto erboso molle
amo la mia ora di vento e di luce
qui cade nessuna luce
dal ponticello rude
sono il vento che esita
ed il mio nome è sincero
chi chiamerà il vento
un cielo che non ha conosciuto mai il sole, la luna o le stelle
eliminazione, lottante vainly
tre anni fa oggi

 



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