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autumn poetry

amo la mia ora di vento e di luce
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
in tutte le cose non parlate di
alti pareti ed enorme
dolce e forte
come candela bianca
senza sosta
veda, rinviano
il singolo pugno serrato alzato e ready
vecchio vino da bere
tempesta
con il tramonto

 



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