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death poem

quell'anno
dal puntello, dal mare
città che non è una città
con gioia e wonder
a che cosa una donna la paragonerà cara
per venire così presto a questo ha immaginato l'oscurità
il sole è in su
faccialo rotare giù dal prato
travails della terra
nelle mattine nube-grige
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me
ciò è la nave della perla
riempio questa tazza

 



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