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son poem

perchè così triste mio bello?
dai nostri posti nascosti
amavo una donna
non brucio incenso
sopra i tetti corra le ombre delle nubi
felicità
come io aiuti alla destra il mondo che sta andando male
abbiamo nessuno shame?
ombre alate che scopano vicino
vedo tutti gli spiriti umani
dal ponticello rude
se esso
desolato e solo
corsa alto-sopportata

 



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