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l'aria č piena l'alba del e la molla
dicami piů di meno o dicami di piů
come le aquile sul high alto
questi sono
aranci di coglitura nubian blu-neri
mille anni silenziosi fa
corsa alto-sopportata
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
movimento del vostro corpo č come musica
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
ci č un'ora di riposo pacifico
felicitŕ
li ho detestati

 



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