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retirement poem

in tutte le cose non parlate di
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
per guardare tutto il giorno l'onda blu arricciarsi e rompersi
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
tristemente parlando
dove io trovili
movimento del vostro corpo è come musica
debole-è traversata la canzone
contro la fiamma verde dell'cratego-albero

 



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