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cowboy poetry

la mia anima č un campo arato scuro
e pane del breaketh non di piů
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
poco cancello č stato raggiunto in fine
rumori che si sforzano strapparsi
ha una radura, loveliness vento-riparato
sto morendo
dai prati ricchi con cereale
ultima mezzanotte
li ho sentiti nella notte

 



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