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lost love poem

serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
appena come mie barrette su queste chiavi
chi ama la pioggia
la notte č scura ed i venti di inverno
la gradisco
una pesca piccola nel frutteto si č sviluppata
aumentato dai morti
con i suoi capelli che flaying sfrenatamente
senza sosta
li ha fatti mai vedono un coccodrillo
non rimanga nient'altro

 



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