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kid poem

ha scoppiato il vino feroce
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
passando tramite le pareti huddled ed ugly
dio
con gioia e wonder
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
sotto la luna della raccolta
deve andare indietro, ha detto
fra le montagne ho vagato
ha sentito i bambini giocare al sole
dialo
ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa

 



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