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mother poem

che cosa era esso i motori detti
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
le tonalitŕ della notte stavano cadendo velocemente
felicitŕ
pensieri tramite la mia testa
potrebbe conoscerla nella molla piů in anticipo
scattando in su, cadendo
sia in me come gli atteggiamenti eternal
la penso splendido giusto

 



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