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il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
benchè sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
quando la notte va alla deriva lungo le vie della città
per coprire il pensiero ardente
babylon -- dove vado sognare
tre giorni li ho sentiti addolorarsi quando mi situo completamente

 



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