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child poetry

sotto un albero di diffusione della castagna
la notte scorsa la luna piena ha posto un panno del bianco
un'ombra grigia sottile sul bordo di pensiero
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
osservare di là
vi ricordate di
sono una donna
amavo una donna
l'agonia di avere troppa alimentazione
la nerezza
come le aquile sul high alto
gloom

 



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