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birthday poem

e pane del breaketh non di più
la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
prima del san bronze solenne
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
in corridoi di sonno avete vagato vicino
o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
fra le montagne ho vagato
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno

 



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