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narrative poetry

piantiamo
lungamente fa, nel moonlight giovane
musing, fra il tramonto e l'oscurità
e pane del breaketh non di più
in pieno delle rotture
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
con gli occhi meek e marroni
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
sono vecchio e cieco
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
ho sentito tutto il giorno il vento
devo dire buona notte

 



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