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life poetry

quando il velare dagli occhi č alzato
tristemente parlando
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
quando la notte va alla deriva lungo le vie della cittŕ
improvvisamente, dai sensi scuri e frondosi
quale si conservare
benchč sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno

 



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