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poem for pastors

mi domando dove vivete
ed ancora hanno camminato sopra
l'aria è piena l'alba del e la molla
alti pareti ed enorme
l'amore è stato cantato mille sensi
una foschia stava guidando giù
là dalla finestra nella vecchia casa
fiori dei bambini
nelle mattine nube-grige
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
il giorno è fatto
esistere dello swan
tranquillamente, con il reverance, nel awe

 



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