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wedding poem

diami la fame
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
quando ero un ragazzo all'universitŕ
fra le montagne ho vagato
tranquillamente, con il reverance, nel awe
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
non dal mondo largo di tutto
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
rompiamo il vetro di cui vino sacred
in pieno delle rotture
sole e vento e battimento del mare

 



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