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mother poem

al lato di un campo raso
una volta questo tappeto erboso molle
ombre alate che scopano vicino
i giorni endeared ad ogni MUSE
sotto il timone del guerriero
sono fevered
in vostri bracci era il piacere tranquillo
le montagne sono gente silenziosa
la nerezza rotola verso l'alto
era un oysterman giovane alto

 



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