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son poem

il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
i nostri momenti piacevoli volano
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
le tonalitŕ della notte stavano cadendo velocemente
ho detto
movimento del vostro corpo č come musica
per potere vedere ogni lato di ogni domanda
prenda i miei bracelets
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
cosě caduto

 



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