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pumpkin poem

il cielo
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
dalla finestra un mare degli alberi verdi
non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
un uccello ha cantato
come livellare cade
quando ho esaminato i vostri occhi
le vecchie canzoni
chi è il corridore nei cieli

 



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