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fall poetry

sono vecchio e cieco
devo dire buona notte
per ero un consigliere gaunt e grave
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
quel compagno sconosciuto è venuto sul mescolareare i piedi
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
quando la notte va alla deriva lungo le vie della cittĂ 
la nerezza rotola verso l'alto
fra le montagne ho vagato

 



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