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death poem

senza dubbio mi ricordo di ancora
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
in sua tenda custodita
le canzoni antiche
nel gather di nerezza e chiedono
ho sentito tutto il giorno il vento
con gioia e wonder
come le aquile sul high alto
rompiamo il vetro di cui vino sacred
sto cantando voi
era l'autunno dell'anno

 



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