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autumn poem

veda lo sperimentale
fate non sentirsi
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
con il tramonto
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
le tonalità della notte stavano cadendo velocemente
che cosa era esso i motori detti
quindi non posso
abbiamo nessuno shame?
tengo il vostro cuore
è venuto prenderlo dalla mano
ha detto
le preghiere bianche piccole
mescolisi

 



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