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death poem

la neve bisbiglia circa me
ho visto le nubi fra le colline
facce belle e tragical
riempio questa tazza
il singolo pugno serrato alzato e ready
gaily attraverso i campi abbiamo ballato
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
dio
là dalla finestra nella vecchia casa
ciò è l'arsenale
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
dal pavimento al soffitto

 



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