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sad poetry

il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
da me indegno e sconosciuto
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
il sole ha fatto un passo giù dal suo throne dorato
la signora, il vostro cuore si è girata verso polvere

 



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