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sono il vento che esita
nelle mattine nube-grige
fra le montagne ho vagato
aranci di coglitura nubian blu-neri
al lato di un campo raso
riempio questa tazza
corsa alto-sopportata
l'agonia di avere troppa alimentazione
mentre mi sono levato in piedi ascoltare, discreetly dumb
se avessi saputo lo stretto una prigione č amore

 



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