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son poem

il sole è in su
nel gather di nerezza e chiedono
quando la notte va alla deriva lungo le vie della città
devo dire buona notte
non rimanga nient'altro
malinconia, azzurro era
tristemente parlando
alti pareti ed enorme
le ombre pongono lungo broadway
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
e con l'uccello di ronzio

 



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