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broken heart poem

la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
dolce e forte
sono andati i tre, quelle sorelle rare
stuff della luna
quando, pieno di amore caldo e desideroso
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
il più triste dell'anno
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
uno per uno, come va da un albero
era non per quell'odore singolare

 



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