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poem for dad

fate non sentirsi
per ero un consigliere gaunt e grave
musing, fra il tramonto e l'oscurità
una volta questo tappeto erboso molle
riempio questa tazza
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
nel porto di nuovo York
le tonalità della notte stavano cadendo velocemente
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere

 



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