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short poem

che probabilità spiteful ruba i unawares
il sole ha fatto un passo giù dal suo throne dorato
la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
piantiamo
ed ancora hanno camminato sopra
noi che si sono levati in piedi
travails della terra
dove io trovili
morbidamente piangendo
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
splendor dolce
siete vivi?

 



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