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mother poem

sono fevered
perchè così triste mio bello?
amo rubare per un po'via
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
molto bene, voi liberali
la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
behold me, in miei chiffon, garza e canutiglia
faccia i ragazzi e le ragazze ancora vanno
dicami più di meno o dicami di più
ho sentito tutto il giorno il vento
il mio amore allineare dal suo cuscino è aumentato
potrebbe conoscerla nella molla più in anticipo
una foschia stava guidando giù

 



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