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dal ponticello rude
travails della terra
pensieri tramite la mia testa
ciň č l'arsenale
mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano
sono fevered
conosco che cosa state andando dire
sopra-avevo preparato l'evento
non eravamo molti
osservi fuori sulle stelle, il mio amore
senza sosta
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
le preghiere bianche piccole

 



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