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autumn poetry

senza sosta
o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi
malinconia, azzurro era
per verità, per amore
limps con la fermata del passo doloroso
dio
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
improvvisamente, dai sensi scuri e frondosi
impaurito nient'altro, dico
era non per quell'odore singolare

 



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