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concrete poetry

alcuni giorni più ventosi
amo non troppo bene la mia vita, ma
come candela bianca
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
non eravamo molti
li ho sentiti nella notte
dicami più di meno o dicami di più
tristemente parlando
oscillato nella culla del profondo
senza sosta
siete chiari
sopra loro tutte, osservando giù
moonlight profondo e tenero
chi ama la pioggia

 



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