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son poem

non ci è fuga dal fiume
sono il vento che esita
uno per uno, come va da un albero
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
non rimanga nient'altro
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
riempio questa tazza
qui cade nessuna luce
notte mysterious
le canzoni antiche
l'aria è piena l'alba del e la molla

 



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