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best love poem

ora mentre i miei labbri stanno vivendo
sotto il timone del guerriero
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
poco parco che attraverso
questi sono
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
quando vado di nuovo a terra

 



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