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death poem

una pesca piccola nel frutteto si è sviluppata
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
abbiamo nessuno shame?
le stelle sono caduto da cielo
perchè facciali sempre basamento là che rabbrividisce
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
veda lo sperimentale
il lampo ha esposto a flash ed ha alzato
la luce ritirata

 



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