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poetry in motion

ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
mi chiedono dove sono stato
osservare di lĂ 
lungo le serie
non ci è fuga dal fiume
tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore
perchè così triste mio bello?
prima del san bronze solenne
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro

 



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