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death poem

le montagne sono gente silenziosa
vado il mio senso complacently
ho sentito tutto il giorno il vento
la neve bisbiglia circa me
in pieno delle rotture
forse è materia che avete morto
buona donna
la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
l'odore del è aumentato così falso, le spine così allineare
ho fatto una volta soltanto un voto, uno
le ombre delle navi
una foschia stava guidando giù

 



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